


You will not indulge...

by SeaBassToast



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Smut, Non-Canon Relationship, Relationship(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaBassToast/pseuds/SeaBassToast
Summary: Dismas gets roped into helping an heiress and meets Reynauld and Musar.
Relationships: Bounty Hunter/Dismas (Darkest Dungeon), Dismas & Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon), Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon), Reymas
Comments: 22
Kudos: 56





	1. You will not indulge

The rain fell forth from the sky like a waterfall, unending and unyielding. It filled the air with itself, making it difficult to breath and impossible to hear. Lanterns scattered about the towns’ streets, homes and businesses alike shuddered and flickered. Some had gone out, fully saturated while others torn off the walls completely by the monsoon this place was punished with.

The town he had been summoned to was littered with seedy pubs and brothels, all of which are an ideal place to hide or get caught, but the woman who summoned him said she can make it all worth his wile. The letter was written in too elegant a script and even the paper itself was too rich for him to completely dismiss her claims of substantial reward.

The wax seal was exceptionally fine though he couldn’t place the crest. It was some sort of double star that overlapped into a geometric style with an arch above it. The arch had five thin lines pointing outward from along the length of the curve. It was a plain crest he thought but the arc above it was strange for such a simple array.

He was glad to crack it when opening the letter.

The shape lingered in his mind, blocking out the thundering rain fall and for or a moment he felt a cold that was not because of the rain. Shaking it from his mind, he continued his search for this pub she had chosen as the setting for their assignation.

It was an odd thing for a highwayman to do. He never worked for or with anyone else and rarely was any of his “work” planned ahead. Dismas wandered the roads and highways in search of his prey. Indoor theft requires more stealth than he believes he has. His gun staved off anyone who thought to chase him into the wild after he’d finessed them on the open road. He never had to run too great a distance, knowing how to scout the lay of the land was also an invaluable skill.

The letter informed him that once in the slums he wouldn’t be able to miss his destination and true to her word, as he walked a moment or two into this far less reputable part of town, he heard a commotion over the rain. He peaked around the corner of the alley he had paused in and one building over from his vantage point he saw the slanted light from the pubs’ windows undulating in pools of mud thrashed by the rain. The doors burst open as two comrades, arms over shoulders, swayed and sang at the top of their lungs into the street. The door quickly shut behind them, but they took no notice and meandered further into the night unfazed by the rain. Dismas watched as they disappeared down a small street, listening to their drunken tune grow fainter.

Luckily random debris between these two building created an overhead blockage to the downpour, and he was able to collect himself. Dismas pulled his pipe from his breast pocket and inspected its contents.  
Moist.

Dismas sighed though he agreed it would be best to keep sharp and alert rather than calm from herb. Other exiting patrons opened the doors and Dismas took his chance to slip in undetected and did so gracefully, barely turning a head. The door closed and as if no longer underwater Dismas felt like he was hearing for the first time with the deluge now muted by the building. The hum and roar of its occupants steadily pushed the rain even further away.

Uncharacteristically Dismas pulled the red scarf down from his face and took a deep breath. He paused, shocked by such an amateur mistake; walk into a bar as a most likely wanted criminal and show them all your face. Slowly he put his head down though not low enough to appear guilty of something and walked to the bar. When the barkeep turned, Dismas nodded his chin upward at him. The surly man surveyed him a moment and walked over. He spoke before Dismas could.

“You Dismas?” he asked nonchalantly. Dismas’ hand moved to his pistol though he was not as unseen as he thought.

“Easy mate. There’s a lady upstairs, on the gallery, says she’s waitin on ya.”

“Oh…thanks”

“Mind that pistol boy, got enough holes in these walls” he added as Dismas walked away. He held up two fingers behind him at the barkeep in acknowledgment.

Once at the top of the steps the sight of the only two figures upstairs were bizarre to say the least. The larger of the two present bodies he had to take in first. An entire knight, helmet adorned, chain mail and plated arm/leg guards. The tunic over his armor made it all stranger. It was a tattered royal blue with a yellow cross stretched over a broad chest. True to his image he had before him a sword, palms over hilt as he held it vertically in front of him.

“Ah Dismas!” The second of the two figures spoke first. The woman gently rose from her seat next to the standing knight and did so with such a grace that Dismas swore some force lifted her. The woman was beautiful, large azure colored almond shaped eyes flanked a strong nose. Her long neck held up a delicate jaw and soft chin. Thick golden hair curled into a style he couldn’t see as a small but elaborate hat covered the rest of her head. Other than that, a rich black cloak of velvet covered her from neck down.

“Please” smiling she motioned a deep ruby silk gloved hand to the seat across from her. Dismas was certain she was a woman with money if not a rank. He walked over deliberately, eyeing the knight as the helmet slowly turned as it followed him. It was unnerving to Dismas that this person, could stand still enough to appear inanimate.

He sat and turned his gaze to the lady before him who glided down into her seat making no sound.

“Please allow me to introduce myself properly since I’m afraid arranging all this required quite a bit of discretion” she said giggling slightly at the end. Her voice was soft but almost husky, lacing most of her formal speech with an undertone of sexuality.  
“I am Lady Viara Allard Beauffant but please call me Viara. I have few circumstances left that warrant such formalities” her laugh was light but obviously tired.

“Dismas” he said holding up a hand.

“This is Reynauld” Viara motioned to her left at the towering knight.

The helmet turned again robotically, tilting toward Dismas and then back. Though he couldn’t see his eyes beyond the horizontal slit in his helm, he couldn’t help but feel the knights gaze on him. He shivered secretly and looked away.

“Reynauld is under my employ for the same position I’m offering you. You two would be working together as a matter of fact!” she said chipper.

“Riiiiight” Dismas said looking from Reynauld and back to Viara. She carried on as if asked.

“You see Dismas I’ve recently become the heiress to a rather large estate after the passing of a distant familial relation. This member of the family you could certainly call a black sheep and for various…reasons, the estate and surrounding hamlet fell into disarray. More so the ruins and almost all of the surrounding grounds of the estate have become...grown over and....occupied.”

“Ah. So, you gotta clean house and need some hired help. Why not ask a law man or another one of him” Dismas said leaning forward on an elbow and gesturing toward the knight. The knight remained stationary.

“I require discretion not just sheer manpower. These are not simple bandits squatting about. More importantly however is the aforementioned need for discretion so I’d rather discuss this at the estate. That way what I can share with you can be immediately corroborated with the surroundings” she said stern but only just. Dismas did not like the taste of this or how this complete stranger was asking for a great deal of trust

“So, you want me to head over to some rundown little backwater hamlet to help an heiress clean up her bandit infested estate? That the long short of it lady?”

“To put it plainly yes. I have transportation waiting for us.” she said with a smile. Dismas was confused by the casual air of it all.

“Aah. Right right, travel with a strange woman and some crusader. No thanks.”

Before he could stand up, she placed a large plump sack on the table. Its drawstring was loose and thick gold coins could be seen within. It began to spread flat under the weight of itself exposing more coin as it opened. Dismas was impressed, it was a lot of gold.

“There’s more with me and more to be gathered from the estate. You would get a considerable share of whatever you find of course but the majority of it would go to the restoration of the hamlet and helping it’s people.” Her eyes were hard.  
It’s a lot of money and would help him travel deep into the mainland away from these coasts and get totally lost, but it was off. As he observed her Dismas could she was fraying but was certain this meeting couldn’t possibly the singular reason for the stress that masks her suave aspect.

“Tempting as it is, I’ve no intention on traversing these old roads in the dead of night to the piss end of this place with some noble. I thought you needed maybe a necklace stolen or a statue or whatever you lot cherish. These promises of boon and this sack of coin anyone can jibber jabber on about and produce up front. I’m not waltzing in the darkness with you.” Dismas got up now annoyed, he trudged through this weather for nothing.

“Dismas I wouldn’t leave...please” she almost sounded desperate saying it. Dismas’ curiosity held him there for a moment.

“I am sure you noticed the bounty hunter by the door when you came in. He’s also under my employ.” Dismas was slipping, he didn’t notice anyone by the door. He grinned and huffed as he sat back in the chair across from Viara.

“I have my ears to those things; I don’t have a bounty on my head in these parts.” He was lying.

“Oh, but you do, and I put it there. That is how and why he found you. I truly am sorry to have to resort to such measures Dismas, but I hope that in and of itself helps you understand my urgency in all this.” She shocks and soothes him all at once. He believed she was genuinely sorry and resented her for it.

“So, I don’t help and you feed me to the bounty hunter?” Though he made sure to appear indifferent, inside Dismas was shaken. This wasn’t what he expected, not by a long shot. He fished his pipe out from his coat to continue the charade of apathy.

Of course, it’s still wet. He sighed and returned it to its place. Failure.

“Oh of course! I suppose I should have put the honey out before the salt” the heiress squeaked. She reached into a delicate silk purse in her lap and removed a small ornate arabesque pouch that she slid gently across the table toward Dismas. He looked to the pouch and then back to her.

“For you, in good faith” she said smiling.

He took the pouch and even before pulling the cords apart the earthy bittersweet smell stung his nostrils. He couldn’t help but grin at the pile of fluffy delicate buds, beautiful green and white nestled within the cerulean pouch. Dismas pulled the small drawstrings closed and looked up at her.

“This is from far away” Dismas said smirking as he put the pouch into his dryer pants pocket, this he did not want to get wet.

“Oh, VERY far” she said matter of fact. The acquisition of such things requires a great deal of who you know and even more so how much money you have. Dismas certainly believes now this woman has both.

“How did you get this?” he couldn’t help but ask. The helmed and still out of place knight scoffed a muffled scoff and turned his head away from the table. Dismas grimaced obviously at the knight.

“Well your very welcome Dismas” she said sarcastically hurt.

“Well miss I don’t like the sound of any of this to be honest. You have my many thanks for the herb. I’ll take my chances with the bounty hunter downstairs. Bullets tend to render sizes equal” he said trying to ignore the entire suit of armor upstairs with them that would do fine against bullets.

Dismas stood and turned to leave but bumped immediately into the muscular chest of the bounty hunter he strolled right passed. This helmed man loomed over him, eyes hidden behind a mask and the rest of his face behind a veil. He was an entire head taller than Dismas with a wide brolic physique. Dismas swallowed hard, he could not help but notice the heat radiating off this towering being. He looked from the mans’ face to his pectorals he just planted his face on and quickly back up to the mask, heat rushing up to his face. The silent moment lasted long enough to create a tension and the bounty hunter tilted his head to the side still looking down at Dismas. He shivered at the stare. 

This was the second man, within the same hour whose eyes Dismas could not see but feel on him. They both pierced through and unto him, birthing a fear he hadn’t felt before. In all his years, Dismas has never felt this trapped. He chuckled to himself thinking it was bound to be one snare or another but this? Between a crusader and a bounty hunter? What had this evening become Dismas thought.

The bounty hunter grabbed Dismas hard by the shoulders, spun him around and thrusted him down into his seat.

Reynauld took one precise step forward, pausing in form. Dismas stared at the knight and was cartain he wasn’t looking at him this time.

“Musar” Viara said the name gently.

The bounty hunters grip loosened on Dismas’ shoulders. Reynauld and Musar took a step backward strangely in unison. The knight resumed his position and froze back into place. The bounty hunter Musar leaned on the creaking railing of the steps nearby.

“Dismas....would you believe me if I told you, you would be serving a greater purpose?” Viara leaned in and was almost whispering.

“Is that how you got this one?” Dismas jerked a thumb toward Reynauld whispering in mock.

“I don’t mean serving god. I mean to help the people my family has neglected. I seek redemption for my name. For this I need help...your help.” Viara delicately placed her hand on Dismas. He fully understood how absurd she sounded but couldn’t help believing that she needed him. She stared at him intently and Dismas would swear she was holding her breath. Whatever this was, every fiber of her being seemed bent on it. He weighed the scenario in search of balance if not escape. Dismas exhaled deeply

“Well it’s either assist in your family adventure or number two here takes my head” he said jerking another thumb at the second man that hasn’t stopped watching him since he sat.

“Your right” Viara whispered.

She sounded forlorn and looked even more weary than before. She stood up holding out a hand to the highwayman and Dismas shook their agreement official. They locked eyes for a moment and though exhausted he could see relief in them, some part of her relaxed finally. Viara moved her hand and smiled wide.

“Thank you Dismas. I hope you can see I seek redemption in all this. You can understand that can’t you?” Viara said as she lifted a wide hood over her hat and head. She walked away not waiting for a response and Reynauld followed her. He knew it wasn’t a question and didn’t like that it sounded like an accusation.

Viara began down the steps first and both Musar and Reynauld paused for Dismas to follow her next. He didn’t turn to see which of them went down after him but smirked to himself picturing the moment in his mind.

He exited the pub and couldn’t believe he was in the same place. The town looked brand new. The storm passed and the sky was perfectly clear. Dismas thought he could see every star and the wind blew icy as if directly from some artic slope. The difference was stark, and he didn’t notice he had paused to stare until either Reynauld or Musar pushed him from behind. Dismas grumbled as he adjusted his coat and before he could turn to face whoever shoved him, the imposing thing he had been thrust toward rooted Dismas to the spot.

It was a carriage. An ornate carriage.  
It was just like it. Just like that carriage.  
Dismas heard the gunshot. His hand twitched.  
He shook his head and blinked hard.  
He looked back at the carriage.  
A second gunshot.  
Smoke burned his nostrils. His breath was frost in his lungs. The footstep, quick in the snow.  
A third gunshot and broken glass. His hand twitched again, and his heart pumped in his ears.  
A shattered window rushed up to him where he stood in the cold and beyond the shards of glass and memory, he saw…

“Dismas?” He heard Viara ask as if from afar. He found her face and his eyes focused. She was holding the carriage door open half stepped inside it, her elegant visage next to the doors window. The unearthly cold of his dark reminiscence left his body, but his heart was still a drum in his ears. His breathing steadied and he pulled his coat closer to him, the real wind of this plain now chilled the sweat on his neck and forehead.

“Sorry” Dismas pushed the vision from his mind and locked it away, not sure why or how such a part of him would surface now. Viara stepped fully into the carriage and vanished within its abyss. He swallowed hard and stared the carriage down, waiting to hear it again, to feel it again. He closed his fists…ready.

Nothing.

His heartbeat calmed to its silent and automatic rhythm. Dismas sighed and took a step toward the still unassuming carriage.

It was large, with nothing exceptional about it, drawn by two large black steeds that stood as awkwardly still as Reynauld did. Its driver was an incredibly old man Dismas could only see from the back. His coat was a size too large and severely moth eaten. The wizened man turned only slightly toward Dismas leaving himself halved by shadow. The drivers’ eyes were sunken and mad in the icy moonlight. He held a hand up to his mouth and behind it Dismas could see mostly yellowed teeth and chapped skin.

Was he smiling?

Dismas grimaced blatantly at the driver as he turned back toward the horses. He looked up at the sky again and stood still in scrutiny. Where was the moon he thought, casting all these shadows about?

“In thief” a muffled voice croaked from behind a visor and gave Dismas another shove. Dismas sucked his teeth at Reynauld as he stumbled into the carriage.

Dismas bounced slightly on the rich velvety plush cushioned upholstery of the carriage and grinned at himself. He was glad to see Viara had been staring out the window and didn’t notice his moment of jovial gaiety but mortified by the knight that had already silently sat beside the lady. He blushed, glad for his scarf and the shadowy interior of the carriage. Dismas was surprised at how quietly he was able to move in all that metal and leather.

So far Dismas has heard only two words from him, has yet to see this mans’ face and already can’t stand him. The carriage started abruptly and startled them all. Viara sighed, leaned back and closed her eyes, making Dismas feel as tired as she looked. With no desire to interact with Reynauld at all Dismas fished his pipe and the pouch of herb Viara gave him from his pockets.

“You will not indulge in here” the crusader said slowly, carefully pronouncing each word. Reynaulds arms remained crossed at his chest as Dismas narrowed his eyes at the slit in the helmet. He packed his belongings away not afraid of injury but because he knew Reynauld would absolutely throw it all out the window. He too sighed and followed lady Beauffnats example. He leaned back, closed his eyes and was suddenly more exhausted than he thought and not even the shaking carriage stopped sleep from taking him.


	2. Dagger in silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dismas has night paralysis during a chase. Reynauld sometimes hears a voice and Viara is good at throwing stuff.

Gunshots.

Dismas tried to look away from the carriage in the snow, from the crescent shaped crack of the window, from that night that began to rush into view as if he ran at it.

Gunshots and then blood. It flowed crimson from the door and Dismas couldn't withstand what he witnessed as it opened. He wasn't sure if he was hearing himself scream or if it was the voice of another.

His ears were back in the carriage and he could hear Viara inaudibly shouting as the carriage wildly threw them about inside itself. The horses were making unnatural sounds, screaming like a chorus of small children terrified. The strong and fast inhale and exhale of their massive lungs made the fear all the more real. Not being able to see the steeds made it sound as if the carriage itself were gasping for air. The feral screams and galloping were as loud as the sporadic gunshots.

He wasn't entirely free from the nightmare and couldn't calibrate reality until a large hand gripped him by the face with unnaturally strong force. He immediately came to and opened his eyes.

“DISMAS!!” The large helmet was shouting at him surprisingly louder than the commotion that surrounded them.

Dismas couldn’t catch his breath but was glad to see and to be back on this plain. It was the only way he would have described it but had no time to think of anything but the present. As the carriage raced wildly down the road, its path serpentine, Dismas desperately held to the wall behind him trying to keep balance.

“Draw your pistol man they are upon us!” Reynauld shouted from behind his gauntlet, held up against the window that hadn’t been shot out yet. Dismas could now hear the galloping of other horses.

“Here it’s loaded!!” Viara shouted over the roar, thrusting a rifle into Dismas hands, letting go whether he had grip of it or not. He couldn’t believe the scene he found himself in. She brought her own rifle back up to her shoulder and shot through the shattered window of the carriage at some opponent he could not see. Dismas cringed at the strained cry the horse wretched out after Viaras bullet. She ducked slightly and began to reload her gun. Without looking up from loading her weapon…

“DISMAS SHOOT THAT FUCKING RIFLE!!”

He jumped genuinely startled even more than the random bullets that struck and almost pierced through the carriage walls. He adjusted the rifle to position in his arms. Reynauld was still opposite him trying to look out for assailants that may be approaching close. Dismas half stood, meaning to sit on the other side of the carriage by the window, rifle raised and bumping into a ducking crusader. They both jostled about as the carriage continued to fly down the road trying to shake off its attackers.

Dismas sucked his teeth at the laws of physics that threatened to topple him over trying to get to the other side of the carriage. The barrel knocked into Reynaulds helmet several times as they both tried to get out of the others way and switch places.

“MOVE!” Dismas shouted scraping the rifle across the roof falling backward.

Reynauld in one swift motion grabbed the rifle barrel with one hand, scooped Dismas up from his waist with the other and switched their places in an instant. Reynauld jerked his armored elbow at the doors window closest to Dismas and shattered it. The last of the carriages windows was gone.

“SHOOT!!”

Dismas looked out the window as a hooded man galloped toward them. The arm to his side held some type of short double-barreled gun…he planned to get close. Dismas popped his head out to provoke and the bandit ducked down, beckoning his horse to gain speed., eating up the bait. Dismas didn’t wait for him to get closer, glad the rifle could close some distance.

The carriage lurched upward abruptly…it had run something over.

The wheels knocked against the carriage, wobbling and unstable. Dismas’ shot went into the sky. Viara was still desperately trying to reload her gun, growling at the thing as she tried to keep some sort of balance on the floor of the carriage.

“STEADY YOU MAD OLD FOOL!! STEADY GODS DAMN YOU!! Viara shrieked up at the ceiling.

The ancient man shouted and wailed. Dismas couldn’t see him but hoped he at least still held the reins. He disregarded the rifle and pulled his pistol from his coat. Before he could try and see where his enemy was a blast splintered the top half of the carriage door. Dismas flinched as the chattel blew passed him and Reynauld knelt down over Viara. Invigorated by the fear of death and excitement from their speed, Dismas planted his hands on the ceiling and kicked the rest of the door clean off its hinges. He gripped the door frame and stood half outside the carriage lifting his pistol arm in the same motion. The rider was more than close enough.

He shot into the mans’ face and he fell backward on his horse.

“Tsk, missed his eyes”

For the briefest of moments Dismas remained half hanging out of the carriage and took in the gale force winds rushing around him. Then from behind, over deafening wind in his ears, Dismas could hear the antique coachman howling louder into the night. He glanced at him as he started to hoist himself back into the carriage and saw his arms flailing about.

He didn’t have hold of the reins…and it didn’t matter.

Before he could do anything other than fully reentering the carriage, an explosion rang out and cracked the very air. The deafening shatter of most of the roof was all they could register, unaware that the force jerked the carriage to the right as the horses pulled left. The axel broke to pieces releasing the terrified steeds, sending the carriage body careening off the road beyond the tree line. At their velocity they steadily soared several feet into the forest before side swiping a tree, hurling it further into the air to finally slam down on its side. Its halt was abrupt, and the scene was quickly motionless.

The pause was surprisingly brief before the damaged roof began to splinter as an armored leg kicked from within. Reynauld made short work of the already semi shattered roof and created a larger opening. He crouched out of the wreckage first helping the lady and then Dismas. Reynauld helped Viara to her feet and she all but shooed him away.

“I’m fine I’m fine” she said breathlessly. The black velvet cloak was disheveled over her.

Her skirt and petticoat were creased and torn here and there, her hat nowhere to be seen. Viaras hair was falling around her face in large graceful loops and curves but she didn’t appear to be all that phased or surprised at the current state of them all. Dismas felt a different twinge in his neck observing her and squinted from both pain and suspicion. He rolled his left arm over and over in a circular motion trying to desensitize himself to the soreness. Reynauld moved to where Dismas was kneeling swiftly, almost taking his arm into his hands. He paused, hands near the arm Dismas nursed.

“Is it broken?” He asked.

Dismas thought he understood concern from his tone.

“N-no?”

The hovering hands grabbed Dismas abruptly and hoisted him up on his feet.

“Good let’s go” the knight spoke flatly.

“Ow! Just pulled from wreckage thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Dismas scowled and jerked his arm away, immediately regretting the spiteful motion, his shoulder and neck tender to the touch. 

“We need to make haste. They shouldn’t be far behind and I’m certain they mean to pick at the bones” Reynauld said as he crouched back down half inside the wreck. He pulled out a small pack and his long sword triggering Dismas’ to feel inside his coat for his own belongings.  
Gun. Dagger. Pipe.  
His hands flew to his pant pocket at the thought of his pipe. His gift was safe.  
Dismas drew his gun and began to reload it.

“Can you do that walking?” The knight stepped squarely before Dismas who was quite adept at reloading a pistol and had finished barely a minute after Reynauld finished asking.

“I’m done” Dismas said taking a confident step toward the towering crusader. They were beyond personal space boundaries and it wasn’t until then that Dismas noticed how tall and wide he actually was. Like Musar, Reynauld stood an entire head taller than Dismas so he had to look up at the helmet to glare at it.

“Hurry up thief. Your kinfolk search for us” he spoke to him behind his visor.

Dismas couldn’t tell which he despised more; how casually matter of fact he spoke the phrase or that he wasn’t even facing him saying it anymore and surveying the forest over Dismas head. He was too sore to argue and Reynauld was right, the brigands that ran them off the road couldn’t be far behind. Even with three of their number taken down they may or may not be outnumbered. What concerned Dismas more however, was that whatever creation made that ungodly noise before the carriage almost broke in half, had to be close.

“Sooooo, what the hell hit us?” Dismas calmly asked as he put his pistol back into his coat.

“My guess a cannon. I’m not sure what else could make such a sound and the sulfur is still on the wind.” Dismas assumed Reynauld was sniffing the air but his helmet kept him from seeing any human characteristics.

“That means some had to have been on foot already in the trees” Viara spoke walking up to them. “If we keep moving this way, we can make it to the hamlet....” she paused looking toward the forest beyond the wreck.

“How long were we on the road?” She turned to face Reynauld.

“3 hours” he answered immediately. Dismas rolled his eyes and the helmet turned slightly at him. He lifted his scarf and turned away feeling heat crawl up into his face, caught.

“Ok that means that we would have been on the road for about another hour by carriage. Trudging on foot I’d say it’s about a two and a half hour trek the rest of the way. Obviously off the road.”

Dismas turned and looked in the direction Viara had indicated. The tree canopy was thick and moonlight broke through the shadows in slender prismatic beams scattered throughout the visible forest. The stillness of the trees despite the wind kept the beams unbroken by branches, shifting reality into an otherworldly scene that it chilled him more than the strange wind. The light was only a ghost of itself, the brackish filter of shadowy trees it seeped through tainting it’s struggling brightness. 

Hooves approached in the distance.

They all turned to the same eerie abyss across the circular clearing they had landed in. It was large enough that the wreckage didn’t take up too much space however that only meant they were even more in the open. They could barely see beyond the trees meaning eyes could already be on them and Dismas instinctively pulled out his pistol and drew his dagger. He crouched and began to back up to the tree line behind them, checking the edges for movement. He found a hiding place a bit away from where the carriage lay and Reynauld followed suit several feet away from Dismas trying to spread them out. Viara moved swiftly behind a large tree to Reynaulds left, each checking to see that they are hidden. Viara slipped her hand into an invisible pocket on her skirt and pulled out a gleaming dagger. Dismas was staring from his hiding place in bewilderment

She looked up, winked at him over Reynaulds crouched figure and began to unhook her skirt and petticoat from the edge of her bodice. With the most delicate silence, she stepped out of said fashions and stood cloaked, corseted, clad in black leather pants her dress had concealed.

Who is this woman?

She got low behind her tree and faced the clearing. Between them Reynauld drew his sword quietly as possible from its scabbard. He held it pointing behind him, the blade running the length of his arm, tip dangerously close to where his ears were under his helmet. Dismas swore he could see the knight shrink with tension, locking in kinetic energy, coiled and cocked on bended knee ready to pounce. Dismas paused for a moment and found himself wondering how intense his eyes must be peering through his slitted helm. He wondered the color and would bet they were green. Dismas caught himself smile at the mental note and grimaced.

What?!Pay attention!

Dismas wanted nothing to do with this man since the moment he met him but…he HAD to see his face. It was maddening to be made so curious and be so judged by a walking suit of armor. He found it difficult to properly hate him and resented the knight further. Dismas’ attention was suddenly shifted.

The hooves stopped…they would have to fight. Retreat would only postpone an inevitable battle that they’d have to engage in exhausted from running.

There was a collective unconsciousness between them....  
The enemy approached and…  
They’ll have to enter the clearing.  
They’ll inspect the wrecked carriage.  
They’ll be exposed.

The hooves hadn’t passed them before they ceased so they were safe from behind, they hoped. They each tensed at a new motion.

Two men stepped out of the trees on the opposite end of the clearing.  
Reynauld turned to Viara and pointed two fingers in the direction behind her. Viara understood and focused on the groups left for anyone’s approach. He turned to his right to give Dismas the same order but he wasn’t looking at the knight and had already turned to survey their right flank.

That’s when Reynauld noticed; Dismas was closest to the carriage.

The knight knew that strategically he should be seen and noticed first. Dismas had only one shot in his pistol before having to reload which would take at LEAST a minute. That’s more than enough time to be set upon and he hadn’t the slightest idea about his melee capabilities. He uncoiled himself and began to analyze the impending battlefield they had no strategy to maneuver within. Reynauld clenched his jaw praying Dismas would turn to him so he could give him some type of signal to wait.

Reynauld took a deep breath and focused. The men weren’t to the wreckage yet, taking careful steps as they surveyed the clearing. Two other men stepped out from halfway around the clearings circular edge. Viara watched frozen in place, relieved that they didn’t approach from within the trees toward her. She gave Reynauld a thumbs up, their left was clear. He turned to his right and a fierce cold swelled in his stomach.

A hooded figure approached them within the trees, toward Dismas, a Dismas he could no longer see. Reynauld caught a glimpse of the mans’ gun and assumed since he hadn’t shot, he couldn’t see him or Dismas.

A gunshot and then another.

A body fell amongst the shadows, muffled by the foliage. Everyone froze.

Suddenly, Dismas leapt out of the trees and tumbled gracefully into the large circular space. He was crouched now between two sets of men, each surprised to a halt. Reynauld took the chance.

He bum-rushed the closest pair that made it to the wreck and in one swift swing the first of the two fell, head cleanly sliced off his neck. The second ducked down behind the carriage and took a shot at Reynauld. It ricocheted off his pauldron and he barely flinched. The brigand drew a second pistol and pointed again at the crusader. Dismas lunged passed Reynauld from his perched position and dug his blade deep into his enemies’ chest. They fell over as he threw his entire body behind the thrust. The other pair furthest from them both drew pistols and shot at Reynauld. One bullet struck the earth by his feet, but the other shot lodged itself in the slit of his visor. Though it hadn’t pierced through, the force pushed Reynauld backward up against the carriage tripping him onto the ground.

Still moving toward Reynauld, they discarded the guns for one crude club and the other two small daggers. They shared glances and sprinted at the stunned knight. Dismas stepped out in front of Reynauld and pointed his gun at them, he hadn’t reloaded but the feint worked. One of the bandits paused at the sight of the pistol and was suddenly stuck in the face by something small, it had cracked and burst, ceramic sounding. Thick black smoke all but engulfed his entire upper body. He coughed through his pained shouts, swiping and slicing at the air around him. The clubbed attacker continued to run, abandoning his comrade. Dismas planted his feet ready for combat.

The bandit closed the distance between them quickly and swung from above. Reynauld hopped up from behind Dismas, wrapped an arm around his waist holing him close and spun him around putting himself in place for the coming blow. The club slammed down, Reynaulds’ gauntlet only half raised. Reynauld buckled and dropped to one knee while Dismas took a step back trying not to stumble off his feet. The bandit raised his club again and with a fluttering swoosh, a dagger pierced into the mans’ bicep. Viara had another dagger drawn and was already running toward them. The pause from his wound was enough time for Dismas to ready his lunge, aiming for his enemies exposed underarm. Suddenly from behind, a hand grabbed Dismas by his collar and threw him an alarming distance away from Reynauld.

A hooded figure, with the breadth one of the carriage wheels, stepped into the clearing. He held a multi-tailed whip, each strip of leather pierced with small sharp studs and razors, haphazardly pinned. Reynauld rolled out from between the two enemies.

Viara reached the man she’d stabbed and lunged at him, her gleaming blade slid cleanly between his shoulder blades as she jumped upward toward him. The two bodies knocked into the massive one, but he barely stumbled backward and Viara was now on the ground before him. She raised her arms up in front of her as he swung his whip across her makeshift shield. Her delicate sleeves ripped like paper and she fell off the dead man from the force of it.

Dismas had reloaded and shot at the hulking bandit. He didn’t pierce the leather that struggled to stay closed around his barrel like figure but provided enough time for Reynauld to stand and swing at their enemy. He missed and took a lash from the whip and swung again. Reynauld quickly took to the defensive fully protected by his armor hoping to tire the larger man out.

The duel wielding bandit finally regained some composure and brandished his blades in a flurry of rage. Dismas stopped reloading and ran over, planting himself between Reynaulds fight and the dual wielding thug. Whatever Viara threw at him had charred his cheek and blackened most of the rest of his face in some soot or gunpowder. They paused and squared each other up

Viara bounced on her tip toes looking between Reynauld combating his whipping giant and Dismas. She wouldn’t have to make a choice in which to assist as the two men squaring off charged at each other. Dismas was quicker than the injured opponent and made swift work of him with only two precise slashes from his blade. His enemy fell, a gash across his face and another across his neck.

Before Viara could turn back to Reynauld his body flew in her direction landing a few feet in front of her but remaining on the ground but a moment before nimbly stood on his feet. The giant had grabbed him by the arm and flung him, ripping the entirety of his arms armor fittings off. His whip was ineffective against a knights’ shielded metallic body.

She threw a dagger passed Reynaulds head and pierced the juggernauts bare chest. He howled in pain and ran at them furious, his body unfazed by the small blade jutting from his fatty bosom. His agility caught them both off guard and his lengthy arm had more than enough reach. It was too fast for Reynaulds sword to block and his newly exposed arm took the hit. The nails and blades stuck in him for a second before following the flow of the strike, taking leather and skin from Reynaulds arm. He stumbled backward from the force, knocking into Viara, sending her tripping over some gnarled root or vegetation. He recovered quickly from the blow, rooting one foot behind him and using this new center of gravity, backing the swing with the force of both hands. The bandit attempted to grab or block the blade, but the knight was swift.

Reynaulds blade lodged itself in the mans’ wrist, his leather gauntlet buffering the attack, not allowing the sword to cut all the way through. The blow was still more than effective, and his hand fell limp, hanging half off his wrist. He dropped his whip and gripped his almost severed hand, yowling from shock and pain. The giant began to drop and before his knees hit the ground Reynauld chopped down at the giants’ neck. His head too now hung limply half off his body. For a moment all they could hear was their heavy breathing.

But still....a rustle in the dark.

Reynauld quickly looked toward the sudden noise and Before he could see anything in the trees a gunshot rang out. More rustling followed the pistols ringing, accompanied by a familiar heavy thud.

A stealthier bandit had fallen face first into the clearing from the shadows, pistols in each hand. Reynauld turned back around to Dismas, watching him as he lowered his own firearm and they stared at one another. Reynauld felt conflicted in that moment, this murdering thief saved his life.

He thought; the heavens have a strange humor.

The start of the battle flashed across his mind, forcing the memory how Dismas stopped the other ruffian from firing his second pistol. Twice saved by the murdering thief…strange humor indeed.

Reynauld couldn’t help but notice that Dismas was basically sparkling in the moonlight. He was dotted with beads of sweat that caught the light as his heavy breathing swelled his chest and flexed his neck. He appeared far more fit that Reynauld gave him credit and now wouldn’t doubt his efficiency at hand to hand combat. Reynauld kept staring, his mouth agape and his helmet a blessing in so many ways. He swallowed hard and was shocked at the saliva build up in his mouth. Reynauld began to recite the verses in earnest in his mind and turned his back to Dismas

The said thief also kept his eyes on Reynauld, confused by the statue like pause. Without seeing his face Dismas had no idea how to interpret any of their interactions. As reynauld rummaged through their discarded pack, Dismas approached Viara with bandages he assumed Reynauld was searching for. He always carried his own spare bandages just in case.

“Here, I’ll move your sleeves” he said handing her a roll of clean white cloth. He moved his hands to her sleeves and looked at her.

“Oh, just tear the damn things, it’s only a shirt.” Dismas shrugged and tore her nowruined sleeves open.

“Thanks for almost asking though” she said with a grin.

“Well it was a fine shirt” he said gently wrapping the bandages around her forearms. The swing was so fast it didn’t tear so much as it scrapped but the cuts were many. All that remained on her arms were cuffs, the rest of the sleeves hung in tattered strips, heavy from soaking up blood.

“Neat work. Thank you” she said as he cut the bandage, her arm tended to.

He turned his attention to Reynauld who was collecting the arm plates their bovine like enemy tore off him. His exposed arm was still massive without the layer of armor and was also bleeding. Crimson flowed over large tears in the leather that was second guard under the missing metal. Dismas walked over to him with some bandage left.

“Here there’s still some-“

“No” he said abruptly, not turning around to say it. He discarded the ruined arm plates and pauldron, they were useless, and it would take too much time to try and fasten them.

“But you’re blee- “

“Our concerns are twofold. More may be coming and we’ve no means to make haste. We have to keep moving.” Reynauld said more to Viara, dismissing Dismas presence entirely.

“Fine bleed out” Dismas said nonchalantly, putting the bandage back into his coat. He was casual in response but Dismas seethed internally at the way this man seems to recoil around him. Dismas as a being seems to make the knight indignant.

Reynauld ignored the comment. He could not be indebted to this man in any more ways. His ears rang suddenly, squeezing out all other sound. Reynauld began to sweat. He saw white and then it spoke. The many voices that spoke in unison came again. They pierced through the ringing.

And the verses?  
But he’s a thief and a murderer.

And the verses?  
But he indulges in vice.

And the verses?  
The verses cannot serve him!

WHICH VERSE REYNAULD?! WHICH OF THE HUNDRED YOU’VE COMMITTED TO MEMORY SERVES YOU?! WHICH ABSOLVES YOU THAT CANNOT HIM?! WHICH CAN ASUAGE YOUR GUILT?!

They were all screaming, all at once screaming and then silence. A small chink noise brought him back to the clearing. The bullet lodged in the slit of his visor popped out and fell onto the grass. He looked down at it, listening to the wind in the trees. Death and Dismas had hovered close to Reynauld tonight and it shook him as he stared down at the dented bullet passed the dented helmet. The highwayman had kept Reynauld from the ferryman and noting he could do would change that. Dismas watched Reynauld standing in place looking at the ground.

“Reynauld?” he asked the knight. Reynauld straightened, turned only his head and spoke over his shoulder,

Don’t skip a beat. Not to him. Think.

“The horses they rode here must still be nearby. You two stay here and reload the rifles if they weren’t destroyed in the crash. I’ll fetch the horses and meet you on the road. Stay on the edge out of sight.” Reynauld spoke the words as he moved toward the tree line and disappeared before any response could be made.

Dismas was confused and looked to Viara who simply shrugged it off and went to the two bodies she’d struck, collecting the small daggers from their flesh. Dismas pulled the one good rifle from the dilapidated carriage and began to load it.

“So, do you generally sew secret dagger pockets in your gowns?” Dismas asked without looking up from his work.

She laughed never hearing it put that way. Viara ducked behind a tree and gathered her cloak she’d discarded for agility’s sake. She knew she’d have to explain several points.

“Not all of them no. Originally, I had them commissioned just to have a place to rest my damned hands, standing about soirees all night doing nothing. But once they told me only men need pockets I did it to most of them. Pockets for women...quite the mad fashion” she said it smiling at the memory.

“And your rifle skills?” Dismas asked while gently lobbing the loaded rifle at Viara.

“Oh, that wasn’t anything irregular. My family was a hunting family. My elder sister and two younger brothers all learned to how load and shoot a gun. Rifles mainly. I’ve shot my fair share in the wild” the not so delicate lady said winking at Dismas and grinning fiendishly. He couldn’t help but return a smirk.

“And did all your family learn how to throw a dagger and fight with a blade?” He asked starting to walk across the clearing toward its edge. Viara smiled and rested the rifle on one shoulder. She jogged a step or two to reach Dismas’ side and swung her free arm around his neck and gently over his shoulder.

“At least buy me a drink before prying into my past Dismas.” He huffed a laugh and she stopped them at the tree line. Viara turned to face Dismas, her face serious but somehow still delicate.

“Thank you Dismas.” It froze him where he stood. He hadn’t expected that and her gaze on him pierced but as if by accident.

“Uh well thank you too-“  
“No. I know I haven’t given you a choice in all this and I’m sorry. But I can’t say I’m not glad. So, thanks” she said patting him hard on the shoulder.

“Now let’s be off and not keep our sentinel waiting. The sooner we get to some drink the sooner I can explain this madness to you.” Again, with little choice he followed her into the abyss toward the old road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s so long, I wanted them to already get to the hamlet but the coach got away from me 0_o


	3. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dismas’ night was as bizarre as his morning and that only just started. Also Musar is criminal.

The sun shone brightly over the hamlet, the overcast encroaching at the horizon not yet above them. Its occupants moved with a new vigor in this brilliant light they so seldom experienced. The air was chilly from rain and the ground muddy, but the cold would not cling. The sun shone stronger today and the general atmosphere, although quite out of the ordinary, was productive and alive.

Dismas stepped out into the sun, the room he woke in was on the second floor that the tavern used as an inn. He remembered Viara elbowing his side and teasing about how the rooms at the back of the tavern were, at the behest of her uncle, turned into a brothel. The town told her that he explained its necessity as an income property to provide for the hamlet.

‘Talk about hard times’ he recalled her saying while spilling some of her drink on them. He giggled at the joke a second time though he tried not to. This woman coerced him into helping her under the threat of death. She was also raised a lady and that meant, in the art of conversation, she was a great proficient. That being a fancy way to learn how to lie. So far, the only thing he could believe with certainty was the state of the hamlet.

Dismas took in the sight of an old dilapidated agora. 

Based solely on first glance, the barracks and blacksmith lay across the small expanse opposite him. To his left up the way was a large and imposing building. It had an odd tower making it look a century or two older than the rest of the structures and with so few windows, he couldn’t fathom its use. On the northern side of the hamlet’s center, slightly more detached from the rest, sat the hamlet’s abbey. It was small and flanked on one side by an equal sized cemetery.  
Like the rest of this place it was worse for wear to say the least, stained glass windows broken and panes empty. Statues within could be seen broken, through broken walls. Candles remained lit and even in the day they glowed from afar, the edifice shrouded in darkness. It saddened him to think that people continued to worship there while it fell to pieces around them.

That’s when he saw it in the distance beyond the abbey.

It was a large mansion at the top of the cliffside hill. It was close enough to make out that it wasn’t age alone weighing on it, part of it had been torn down either by force or flame he thought. The sight made his skin crawl and Dismas turned away shaking off a sudden ringing in his ears. He walked across the center of town and passed a crumbled statue at its apex. Gnarled and twisting roots coiled around the statue’s base giving the standing rubble the same skin crawling effect as the manor on the hill. He quickened his pace.

Dismas greeted the blacksmith with a wave and he nodded in kind. Behind the forge were the barracks to the guild Vaira’s uncle had erected. He used to call on all sorts to come and help in his endeavors but now it was all but abandoned. The space at the end of the barracks, closest to the forge, was made into an open bath area. The forge’s heat seeped through the wall there and gave the space a cozy humidity.

Dismas wasted no time filling one of the two large metal tubs with water from a small pump and hose. Rudimentary and crude piping jutted from the wall into the pump and Dismas assumed whatever bizarre plumbing system they created passes by the forge in some manner because the water came out warm, almost hot. He filled a small brazier with glowing coals from the smithy and put it by the tub for extra heat. He so rarely had the time to clean himself properly let alone to soak in a warm tub.

Dismas rushed to undress and let his clothes fall where they may all around him. He lowered himself into the bath and shook from the sensation. The tub itself was large and being of average height and weight he was able to submerge himself completely. He slicked his hair back as he came up for air and reclined, feeling every muscle in him relaxed. The blackmail, the soreness from the carriage crash and fight, his blackout hangover, the knight who probably hates him, the bounty hunter who may literally want to eat him and the overall abysmal tone of this entire less than 24 hour period, melted away.

It lasted all but twenty minutes before he heard footsteps in the barracks. His spirit sank to the bottom of the tub.

“THIS is where we are?!” Viara said dramatically as she came around the corner into the space. Dismas was glad it was at least her. She had two towels, another brazier of coals and a bottle of some type.

“I come with gifts, some enthusiasm, Sir” she said smiling wide at him. He couldn’t help but smile back.

She put the brazier between their tubs and handed Dismas a towel the he kept it folded and placed it behind his head.

“Thank you.”

Viara gave him a sound ‘mhm’ and undressed. He sunk down slightly into his bath water surprised but appreciated how comfortable she was moving about naked. She was slender and fit and now in the nude he could see her legs made up more than half of her body length. She looked ethereal in the slight mist of the room and began to fill the second tub. It took less time he thought, than his did.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, stepping into her tub. She sprinkled water over the brazier and it hissed, the ensuing smoke coiled and twisted slowly in the moist air. Viara sat back and exhaled deeply.

“Better, I guess. All things considered.”

“Indeed! We’ve arrived safely. And now...a bath.” Viara closed her eyes smiling and Dismas didn’t know if her blasé attitude toward this was endearing or annoying.

“Though I’d like to suggest that hired under the threat of death may not make for the best work environment” he added, deciding to be annoyed.

“Oh, I know” she said facing him a moment as if they spoke of another who’d done the deed and not, she herself. She closed her eyes and leaned back.

“And you’re being quite the sport, Dismas, thank you.” Viara took a long and steady breath, settling into a comfortable position.

He became indignant but remained silent. What would challenging her achieve? He couldn’t leave without being at the mercy of Musar and the cursed wilds surrounding the hamlet. Dismas had no inclination as to his whereabouts, he wouldn’t even know in which direction to escape in. It could be worse in a myriad of ways but part of him was glad she was his extortionist. He’d have to roll with this, intransigence wouldn’t help him now.

A comfortable silence filled the space.  
He had questions for her but couldn’t bring himself to ask, he didn’t want to shift the atmosphere, not yet. The steam hovered around them, suspended opaque ribbons that may or may not have been moving. He couldn’t tell and didn’t care, their bodies tuned to a lower frequency. Peace.

Time passed and before she slipped into sleep Viara shifted and sat up.

“You feel well enough for a little fun tonight?” she was so relaxed she almost whispered it.

“What did ya have in mind?” Dismas groaned, he too shifting to avoid passing out.

“Well, I found some maps today. Shows some large ruins close by. Seems our little abbey and the mansion on the hill are proxies of some big’ole family plot turned monastery on the western grounds of the estate. I’m certain that it was the main living quarters for the family. It was several large manors that they half converted into cloisters of some kind. Was the size of a village and apparently has extensive underground tunneling for heavens knows what. About half collapsed, taking chunks of the place with it into the earth. Townsfolk say it’s ‘haunted” Viara said gesturing quotation marks.

“That sounds awful. Why are we roaming around monastic family ruins?” he couldn’t help but sound bored having stewed so long.

“Nothing too strenuous. Mainly just reconnaissance, see what’s in there and if the maps are any good. Maybe take as much loot as we can carry. I’d rather not get lost tonight let alone run into any squatters.”

Dismas turned to look at her. She was lifting a leg up out of the water to massage her calf and faced him as she did so.

“Just us two?” He asked knowing the answer.

“Certainly not. Reynauld and Musar are coming of course.” Viara moved on to massaging her neck and shoulders, taking full advantage of how pliable the heat made her muscles.  
Dismas had mixed emotions. The unknown of the ruins was enough to be concerned about on top of potential squatters. The bandits they fought on the road were formidable enemies. Dismas wasn’t sure how it would have panned out if they hadn’t had the element of surprise. If the bandits were stationed in the ruins, they’ll know them better by now. They’ll have the advantage this time. That aside, he was still unsure about his traveling companions, sans Viara though he refused to trust her fully. Not until he knows more.

“They already know about tonight’s excursion?” Dismas started to massage his arms and neck in preparation for the nights intended ‘fun’.

“They do. Musar-I sent for supplies this morning and when he got back, he was good enough to lend a hand in some manual labor around the hamlet. Reynauld helped the blacksmith with his arm plates and then went to the abbey to help the prior. Been there all day. Told him on my way here to stop and save some arm strength for tonight. I imagine Musar is about, doing who knows what?”

“I imagine doing as he pleases” Dismas said with obvious venom. Viara smirked to herself, knowing how he meant it.

“Yes and no. As long as he’s paid, Musar does as he’s told and with no question. He likes to keep things simple and rarely says much to most” she shrugged. “That’s not to say the man isn’t intelligent.”

Dismas silently questioned that.

“How did you find him?”

“Ha! Bastard found me.”

“On...contract?” Dismas asked, confused as to why a bounty hunter would be after a fallen aristocrat. A sly grin slithered across her face and she looked fiendish. Dismas scoffed. He was genuinely amused and curious.

“And why is our Lady Viara Allard Beauffant with a bounty upon her head?” he asked her, eyes slightly wide. She wore an amused shock at hearing her full name.  
Viara picked up and took a swig from the dark bottle she brought with her before passingit to Dismas. He followed suit, enjoying the familiar burn of alcohol warming his throat. He didn’t care what it was, it was lovely.

“The way I funded this whole thing is why. I sure as hell didn’t have enough of my own fortune left and my uncle didn’t send me nearly enough for anything. So, I raided the private burial ground of my late husband’s family. Along with some of my own family that were buried relatively close by. Greedy bastards the lot of them. Barely left wills, filling graves and mausoleums with their valuables. For what? To collect dust? All I was left with when my UNintended died was debt with people you wouldn’t want to owe a single strand of hair to.”

Dismas passed her the bottle after another swig. For whatever reason none of it shocked him. She chugged deeply and passed the bottle back.

“Sold the house and most of what was inside but kept the land. Maybe sell that soon.” She looked sad at the mention of her ancestral home.

“I left for even deeper country to disappear. My family had old properties tucked away under different surnames. Who knows where those families went but I knew I wouldn’t be found. Little by little I went back and raided them all. It wasn’t as much as I’d assumed but by then I had a knack for it, so I roamed about to other cemeteries. Met some folk, learned some things, killed some other folk. Self-defense of course. I was a lady before I was a grave robber.”

Dismas almost spit out his gulp of liquor.

“Easy!” She laughed at him as he coughed his throat clear.

“That bottles pretty old” Viara said as she leaned her neck back, letting her hair sink deeper into the water. She ran her fingers through it, eyes closing, enjoying her pampering.

“Light help us.... this isn’t your uncle’s is it?” He asked half serious as he took a swig. He worried a moment when she chuckled.

“God no. I took it from the abbey.”

Dismas almost choked on the liquid a second time. He held the bottle out in front of him but there was nothing to indicate its source. Viara continued to comb her hair with her fingers, eyes still closed.

“It’s not like they drink any of it. At least not the liquor.” She said as she dunked her head beneath the water. He took one last long chug waiting till she broke the surface.

“Yea, but why do they have it?”

“The family had the monks making beer and chartreuse by the abbey for years before my uncle was born. For him it turned into another source of revenue” she said wiping the excess water from her eyes. Dismas held the bottle out, Viara nodded no gently and he put it on the ground between them.

“So, the bounty?”

“Right! Well, lots of families wanted me dead but only one of them hired Musar and he’s a damn good assassin. He found me the day after I got the letter and package from my uncle. When he came for me that night my plan for the hamlet was set and I figured I’ll need help and don’t want to die so...hire him.”

Viara shrugged and peaked over the edge of her tub at the bottle. She picked it up and emptied it.

“So, I struck a deal with our striking Musar. At that point I had amassed a small fortune and had most of it in the house when he showed up. I showed him what I could offer and we signed a deal. First, I paid him to take out whatever angry distant relation that was going to pay him to kill me. Then I showed him the letter.

“Musar is smart and well connected. He’d heard of random strange happenings by the estate. Here and there rumors whispered about necromancers and cultists, monsters and mutations. Pure evil and the like. At the very least he was curious, and I had promised him double whatever my bounty was upfront and spoils from this whole business. Then I put him to work finding you which apparently isn’t too easy. Looking for you was quite the Herculean task I’m told. Not that he seems to mind looking AT you” she winked at him from her tub.

Dismas blushed from the confirmation. He hoped he had misunderstood absolutely every single part of his morning with Musar.

For an infinitesimal moment he smelled clove.

He had no words. Dismas prayed he only appeared flushed by the heat and that he didn’t turn a new shade. Viara laughed but her face was gentle and sympathetic.

“Dismas...I couldn’t care less who you fuck. I hope you don’t care about who I fuck and I’m sure Musar doesn’t care WHAT he fucks.”

They laughed from their guts, long and genuine. Viara gasped and wheezed while Dismas cackled on and on. Their laughter tapered off into chuckles as they wiped tears from their eyes. There was another moment of calmness between them before Viara rose from her tub.

“As I’m sure you’ve gathered, we’re staying at the tavern. The room you were in is yours and mine is across the gallery” she began as she dried off with her towel.

“If you’re hungry, talk to the barkeep, he knows not to charge you. We can meet outside the tavern at half past five” she said stepping into a pair of riding boots.

“Gotcha” Dismas said, leaning back but sat up immediately when he remembered.

“Wait, what time is it?”

“I’d say three” she said, ringing out some of her hair with her hands.

“Gotcha” Dismas said, almost dizzy. It was disorienting to him having been awake so long with no track of time. He had assumed Musar woke him at some hour of morning.

“Actually, how about you join me for an early dinner so we can talk more before we leave. I have some letters to write so...let’s say in an hour?”

“My goodness. Being asked to dinner by a lady. In the buff no less” he said smirking, feigning modesty. Viara chuckled.

“Naturally you’re very welcome. I’ll collect you from your room in an hours’ time, sir.” She put her nose in the air and sauntered out of the room, adorned in a towel and riding boots.

Dismas slid deeper into the water and took a deep breath. Tonight would be simple, quick and clean. Just a bit of recon he told himself. He’d never claimed to have any type of heightened intuition, but he felt a gnawing apprehension about tonight’s revelries. He took another deep breath and stood up lest he fall asleep in the tub. He’d only just finished fastening his pants and boots when he heard footsteps again.

“Forget your ladies delicate unmentionables?” he said turning around with a chuckle.

Dismas was mortified to see a large and muscular man standing there instead of Viara. He had only managed to fasten the two bottom most buttons of his shirt before freezing in place. Dismas felt exposed twofold.

“Sorry...I thought” Dismas wasn’t sure how to continue, having noticed how tall and shirtless the man was. He was sweating and as filthy as the shirt he held in his hands, chest heaving slightly as if he had been running. His pectorals shone slick, catching the light with every breath. They stared at each other in an awkward silence.

Dismas was struck dumb by his eyes. They were the most vivid emerald he’d ever seen. He was enthralled by the color and then by his face. A strong brow was held up by his otherworldly green eyes that somehow remained soft through their intensity. His nose was sturdy and most likely broken more than once, adding only more charm to him. His beard was full and dark as opposed to the delicate brown of his hair. It was short but just long enough to curve just right from the sweat.

Dismas flushed red having been so obvious. In an effort to escape the scene as soon as possible, he forsook the buttons he was fumbling with and moved to exit.

“I’m just finished up, all yours” he said briskly passing the man, eyes to the floor.

Cringing, Dismas stopped after a few steps having remembered that he'd forgotten his coat. He took a deep breath and turned. The man startled him, having stepped toward him, closing the space between them. He held the coat out to Dismas.

“Oh! Uh...thanks very much” he managed to spit out. Before a response could be made Dismas scooped his coat from the man’s hands and left without even putting it on.

He made his way to the tavern without looking up from the ground once. 

Dismas lobbed his balled-up coat onto the bed and closed the door. He stood there a moment, touching his forehead to the wood, trying to hold onto the lingering touch of heat and contemplative on how he doesn’t know how to behave in civil society. Dismas wondered if the bath had relaxed him at all now. He shuffled to the bed and sat down to search his coat for his pipe. As he moved it about to find the pockets a white wad of fabric tumbled out of the folds. He unfurled it and held it up before him a rather large, filthy tunic heavy with sweat. Dismas sighed deep and long realizing where it came from.

“Shit.”

He must have swept it up out of that man’s hands with his coat in his rush to leave the barracks. Dismas looked down at the dusty mass of sweaty tunic now in his lap, defeated. He paused, swearing he could smell...frankincense?

He sniffed the air and inhaled more of the scent. Curious, Dismas slowly lifted the shirt to his nose. It was indeed frankincense and this tunic, the source. He hesitated, then brought it closer to his face. There was a faint floral scent mixed in as well. He guessed rose or gardenia. The back of his neck tingled and he took a deeper breath. The floral was juxtaposed not just by the frankincense but by the musk of warm wet skin. He remembered the fierce but sad eyes of the shirt’s owner and held it closer. It had been a long time since he’d smelled the sweat of a man let alone one as handsome as this stranger. The shirt touched the tip of his nose and broke the reverie. Dismas tossed it to the foot of the bed, frustrated and bashful. He abandoned the idea of smoking and laid down half on the bed, deciding a few moments sleep before Viara came to collect him would be best.

Dinner in the tavern downstairs consisted of a light stew and even lighter conversation. Dismas and Viara traded stories of their own exploits as hardened criminals and other morally questionable escapades. She rolled her eyes explaining her tedious childhood of governesses and French lessons. He regaled her with how he learned to swindle people in card games and bamboozle others with lies about palmistry and divination. They laughed a good portion of the hour and it eased his mind some. If she had secrets to keep, he wouldn’t find them out over stew in a semi crowded tavern. Enjoying himself was easy.

The signal to leave was a looming Musar surprising them at the table. He smiled widely, glad to have caught them off guard. Dismas avoided eye contact with the man who was obviously staring. He drank from his cup with intentional laziness, believing the least amount of communication between them the best.

“Supplies are ready” he said to Viara while looking at Dismas.

“Do you generally interrupt dinners you’ve not been invited to?” She asked, adjusting her wide brimmed hat and looking up at him.

“Generally, no. Unless what’s on the table is too good not to taste.”

Dismas glared up at the smiling bounty hunter and his plump lips. That disarming smile only added to his terrifying mystique. Even in the dim candlelight of the tavern his amber colored eyes glowed. Dismas wondered if his stubble was simply forever that perfect length.

“Dinners over, mate” Dismas said standing, he took a final swig from his cup and put it down harder than necessary. He meant to appear threatening but knew once he was at full height only an army behind Dismas would help in any attempt at intimidating Musar. He’d almost forgotten how much taller than mostly everyone in the room Musar was.

He stepped up to Dismas.

“That depends on what I wanna eat” he said looking Dismas in the eyes, unblinking. He leaned down closer, reaching for Dismas cup. Eyes still on him, Musar traced his tongue across the cups lip where Dismas had drank from. He emptied its’ contents in one loud gulp. Viara appeared shocked but not enough to look away.

“Fuck off” Dismas barked. He stepped around the hulking manhunter and exited the tavern. The man was wholly indecent even in public.

He knew the air outside to be cold, but his seething frustration and full belly protected him from the immediate chill of it. More so from habit than weather, he lifted his scarf closer to his nose. Dismas turned his back to the flow of a sudden breeze and adjusted his gloves. Suddenly, there was a scent on the wind.... frankincense and rose.

Dismas indulged himself and inhaled the scent deeply. For a moment, he was calm.

“Good evening” a muffled voice came from behind him. Dismas turned to behold a familiar animated suit of armor.

“Yea, hey” Dismas mumbled in response, turning back around.

He tensed up. This was the first time they’d seen each other after Reynauld carried him, blacked out, up to his room the night before. He felt he was protecting them both by deciding not to mention the subject. It gnawed at him though, the man had helped him. He started to feel the chill of the night and knew best what to do. He sighed and turned around. Highwayman he may be, he didn’t feel he’d fallen low enough to abandon all common courtesy. Before he could even try to formulate any type of thank you, the tavern door swung open with perhaps more force than necessary.

“...yeah and there’s a brothel” Viara had finished saying to a now helmed Musar. She adjusted her hat to the slight wind and smiled broadly at Dismas.

“Ah Reynauld, you’re here.”

“I’ve replaced the spade for two more torches. I believe them more practical. You said you had no intention of traveling deep into the ruins.” Reynaud’s body still faced Dismas as he spoke.

Visor down. Still no eye contact.

It unnerved him just as much as it did last night but there was something else now. Reynauld had seen him not just vulnerable but utterly helpless. He had been completely unconscious in his arms. Now the thought of being stared at by him was all the more penetrating.

Dismas felt suddenly embarrassed and resented the man’s very existence. He hated owing anyone in material ways let alone in this manner. It meant something to repay such a debt and Dismas wasn’t sure how to honor this one, especially considering the recipient. Would he even care that Dismas was grateful?

Dismas rolled his eyes internally.

“Well done, thank you. And I quite agree, my dear, we most certainly shall not tarry in such a place.” Viara drew her coat closer as a gust of wind surged through them.

“Shall we then?” Musar asked delicately in mock. 

He had stepped closer to the three, silently Dismas noticed. His stealth was somehow more alarming outside in the open. He averted his eyes from Musar, now he too was masked, his eyes hidden. Dismas only just then noticed how much he abhorred being stared at. Cosmic joke being that the trigger to such a revelation was because he didn’t know IF he was being stared at to begin with. The thought that unseen eyes might be upon him made his chest tight. 

He took a deep breath.

The four of them stood there in silence for a moment, awkwardly placed in front of the tavern. They weren’t standing apart but remained disjointed, the space between them was filled with an almost tangible miasma of trepidation, each of them feeding it. Dismas felt it an inauspicious moment of silence for them as the wind coursed through the broken party.

The scent was carried on the breeze again and Dismas was torn between looming fear and a soft comfort. He felt hope for a moment as the scent intensified and opened his eyes at the sound of metallic steps, Reynaulds stride taking the scent with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s short long so I left it it’s own chapter. Next is some more explaining so it woulda been one huge one! Thanks!


	4. Those who fail to prepare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dismas stole by accident and Musar was vulgar on purpose. 
> 
> Its week 1 ya'll...

The sun shone brightly over the hamlet. The overcast encroached at the horizon not yet above them. Its occupants moved with a new vigor in this brilliant light they seldom experienced. The air was chilly from rain and the ground muddy but the cold would not cling. The sun shone stronger today. It was an out of the ordinary atmosphere, productive and alive.

Dismas stepped out into the sun. The room he woke in was on the second floor that the tavern used as an inn. He remembered Viara elbowing his side and teasing about how the rooms at the back of the tavern were, at the behest of her uncle, turned into a brothel. The town told her that he explained its necessity as an income property to provide for the hamlet.

‘Talk about hard times’ he recalled her saying while spilling some of her drink on them. He giggled at the joke a second time though he tried not to. This woman coerced him into helping her under the threat of death. She was also raised a lady and that meant, in the art of conversation, she was a great proficient. That being a fancy way to learn how to lie. So far, the only thing he could believe with certainty was the state of the hamlet.

Dismas took in the sight of an old dilapidated agora. Based solely on first glance, the barracks and blacksmith lay across the small expanse opposite him. To his left up the way was a large and imposing building. It had an odd tower making it look a century or two older than the rest of the structures. With so few windows, he couldn’t fathom its use. On the northern side of the hamlet’s center, slightly more detached from the rest, sat the hamlet’s abbey. It was small and flanked on one side by an equal sized cemetery.  
Like the rest of this place it was worse for wear to say the least, stained glass windows broken and panes empty. Statues within could be seen broken, through broken walls. Candles remained lit and even in the day they glowed from afar, the edifice shrouded in darkness. It saddened him to think that people continued to worship there while it fell to pieces around them.

That’s when he saw it in the distance beyond the abbey.

It was a large mansion at the top of the cliffside hill. The sight made his skin crawl. It was close enough to make out that it wasn’t age alone weighing on it. Part of it had been torn down, either by force or flame he thought. Dismas turned away shaking off a sudden ringing in his ears.  
He walked across the center of town and passed a crumbled statue at its apex. Gnarled and twisting roots coiled around the statue’s base. This standing rubble had the same skin crawling effect as the manor on the hill. He quickened his pace.

Dismas greeted the blacksmith with a wave and he nodded in kind. Behind the forge were the barracks to the guild Vaira’s uncle had erected. He used to call on all sorts to come and help in his endeavors. Now it was all but abandoned. The space at the end of the barracks, closest to the forge, was made into an open bath area. The forge’s heat seeped through the wall there and gave the space a cozy humidity.

Dismas wasted no time filling one of the two large metal tubs with water from a small pump and hose. Rudimentary and crude piping jutted from the wall into the pump. Dismas assumed whatever bizarre plumbing system they created passes by the forge in some manner because the water came out warm, almost hot. He filled a small brazier with glowing coals from the smithy and put it by the tub for extra heat. He so rarely had the time to clean himself properly let alone to soak in a warm tub.

Dismas rushed to undress and let his clothes fall where they may all around him. He lowered himself into the bath and shook from the sensation. The tub itself was large and being of average height and weight he was able to submerge himself completely. He slicked his hair back as he came up for air. Every muscle in him relaxed. The blackmail, the soreness from the carriage crash and fight, his blackout hangover, the knight who probably hates him, the bounty hunter who may literally want to eat him and the overall abysmal tone of this entire less than 24 hour period, melted away.

It lasted all but twenty minutes before he heard footsteps in the barracks. His spirit sank to the bottom of the tub.

“THIS is where we are?!” Viara said dramatically as she came around the corner into the space. Dismas was glad it was at least her. She had two towels, another brazier of coals and a bottle of some type.

“I come with gifts, some enthusiasm, Sir” she said smiling wide at him. He couldn’t help but smile back.

She put the brazier between their tubs and handed Dismas a towel. He kept it folded and placed it behind his head. 

“Thank you.”

Viara gave him a sound ‘mhm’ and undressed. He sunk down slightly into his bath water surprised but appreciated how comfortable she was moving about naked. She was slender and fit. In the nude he could see her legs made up more than half of her body length. She looked ethereal in the slight mist of the room and began to fill the second tub. It took less time he thought, than his did.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, stepping into her tub. She sprinkled water over the brazier and it hissed. The smoke moved slowly in the moist air. Viara sat back and exhaled deeply.

“Better, I guess. All things considered.”

“Indeed! We’ve arrived safely. And now...a bath.” Viara closed her eyes smiling Dismas didn’t know if her blasé attitude toward this was endearing or annoying.

“Though I’d like to suggest that hired under the threat of death may not make for the best work environment” he added, deciding to be annoyed.

“Oh, I know” she said facing him a moment as if they spoke of another who’d done the deed and not she herself. She closed her eyes and leaned back.

“And you’re being quite the sport, Dismas, thank you.” Viara took a long and steady breath, settling into a comfortable position.

He became indignant but remained silent. What would challenging her achieve? He couldn’t leave without being at the mercy of Musar and the cursed wilds surrounding the hamlet. Dismas had no inclination as to his own whereabouts, he wouldn’t even know in which direction to escape. It could be worse in a myriad of ways but part of him was glad she was his extortionist. He’d have to roll with this, intransigence wouldn’t help him now.

A comfortable silence filled the space. He had questions for her but couldn’t bring himself to ask, he didn’t want to shift the atmosphere, not yet. The steam hovered around them, suspended opaque ribbons that may or may not have been moving. He couldn’t tell and didn’t care. Their bodies tuned to a lower frequency. Peace.

Time passed and before she slipped into sleep Viara shifted and sat up.

“You feel well enough for a little fun tonight?” she was so relaxed she almost whispered it.

“What did ya have in mind?” Dismas groaned, he too shifting to avoid passing out.

“Well, I found some maps today. Shows some large ruins close by. Seems our little abbey and the mansion on the hill are proxies of some big’ole family plot turned monastery on the western grounds of the estate. I’m certain that it was the main living quarters for the family. It was several large manors that they half converted into cloisters of some kind. Was the size of a village and apparently has extensive underground tunneling for heavens knows what. About half collapsed, taking chunks of the place with it into the earth. Townsfolk say it’s ‘haunted” Viara said gesturing quotation marks with her hands.

“That sounds awful. Why are we roaming around monastic family ruins?” he couldn’t help but sound bored having stewed so long.

“Nothing too strenuous. Mainly just reconnaissance, see what’s in there and if the maps are any good. Maybe take as much loot as we can carry. I’d rather not get lost tonight let alone run into any squatters.”

Dismas turned to look at her. She was lifting a leg up out of the water to massage her calf. She faced him as she did so.

“Just us two?” He asked knowing the answer.

“Certainly not. Reynauld and Musar are coming of course.” Viara moved on to massaging her neck and shoulders, taking full advantage of how pliable the heat made her muscles.  
Dismas had mixed emotions. The unknown of the ruins was enough to be concerned about on top of potential squatters. The bandits they fought on the road were formidable enemies. Dismas wasn’t sure how it would have panned out if they hadn’t had the element of surprise. If the bandits were stationed in the ruins, they’ll know them better by now. They’ll have the advantage this time. That aside, he was still unsure about his traveling companions, sans Viara though he refused to trust her fully. Not until he knows more.

“They already know about tonight’s excursion?” Dismas started to massage his arms and neck in preparation for the nights intended ‘fun’.

“They do. Musar-I sent for supplies this morning and when he got back, he was good enough to lend a hand in some manual labor around the hamlet. Reynauld helped the blacksmith with his arm plates and then went to the abbey to help the priest. Been there all day. Told him on my way here to stop and save some arm strength for tonight. I imagine Musar is about, doing who knows what?”

“I imagine doing as he pleases” Dismas said with obvious venom. Viara smirked to herself, knowing how he meant it.

“Yes and no. As long as he’s paid, Musar does as he’s told and with no question. He likes to keep things simple and rarely says much to most” she shrugged. “That’s not to say the man isn’t intelligent.”

Dismas silently questioned that.

“How did you find him?”

“Ha! Bastard found me.”

“On...contract?” Dismas asked, confused as to why a bounty hunter would be after a fallen aristocrat. A sly grin slithered across her face and she looked fiendish. Dismas scoffed. He was genuinely amused and curious.

“And why is our Lady Viara Allard Beauffant with a bounty upon her head?” he asked her, eyes slightly wide. She wore an amused shock at hearing her full name.  
Viara picked up and took a swig from the dark bottle she brought with her. She passed it to Dismas. He followed suit, enjoying the familiar burn of alcohol warming his throat. He didn’t care what it was, it was lovely.

“The way I funded this whole thing is why. I sure as hell didn’t have enough of my own fortune left and my uncle didn’t send me nearly enough for anything. So, I raided the private burial ground of my late husband’s family. Along with some of my own family that were buried relatively close by. Greedy bastards the lot of them. Barely left wills, filling graves and mausoleums with their valuables. For what? To collect dust? All I was left with when my UNintended died was debt with people you wouldn’t want to owe a single strand of hair to.”

Dismas passed her the bottle after another swig. For whatever reason none of it shocked him. She chugged deeply and passed the bottle back.

“Sold the house and most of what was inside but kept the land. Maybe sell that soon.” She looked sad at the mention of her ancestral home.

“I left for even deeper country to disappear. My family had old properties tucked away under different surnames. Who knows where those families went but I knew I wouldn’t be found. Little by little I went back and raided them all. It wasn’t as much as I’d assumed but by then I had a knack for it so I roamed about to other cemeteries. Met some folk, learned some things, killed some other folk. Self-defense of course. I was a lady before I was a grave robber.”

Dismas almost spit out his gulp of liquor.

“Easy!” She laughed at him as he coughed his throat clear.

“That bottles pretty old” Viara said as she leaned her neck back, letting her hair sink deeper into the water. She ran her fingers through her hair, eyes closing, enjoying her pampering.

“Light help us.... this isn’t your uncle’s is it?” He asked half serious as he took a swig. He worried a moment when she chuckled.

“God no. I took it from the abbey.”

Dismas almost choked on the liquid a second time. He held the bottle out in front of him but there was nothing to indicate its source. Viara continued to comb her hair with her fingers, eyes still closed.

“It’s not like they drink any of it. At least not the liquor.” She dunked her head beneath the water. He took one last long chug waiting till she broke the surface.  
“Yea, but why do they have it?”

“The family had the monks making beer and chartreuse by the abbey for years before my uncle was born. For him it turned into another source of revenue” she said wiping the excess water from her eyes. Dismas held the bottle out, Viara nodded no gently and he put it on the ground between them.

“So, the bounty?”

“Right! Well, lots of families wanted me dead but only one of them hired Musar and he’s a damn good assassin. He found me the day after I got the letter and package from my uncle. When he came for me that night my plan for the hamlet was set and I figured I’ll need help and don’t want to die so...hire him.”

Viara shrugged and peaked over the edge of her tub at the bottle. She picked it up and emptied it.

“So, I struck a deal with our striking Musar. At that point I had amassed a small fortune and had most of it in the house when he showed up. I showed him what I could offer and we signed a deal. First, I paid him to take out whatever angry distant relation that was going to pay him to kill me. Then I showed him the letter.

“Musar is smart and well connected. He’d heard of random strange happenings by the estate. Here and there rumors whispered about necromancers and cultists, monsters and mutations. Pure evil and the like. At the very least he was curious and I had promised him double whatever my bounty was upfront and spoils from this whole business. Then I put him to work finding you which apparently isn’t too easy. Looking for you was quite the Herculean task I’m told. Not that he seems to mind looking at you” she winked at him from her tub.

Dismas blushed from the confirmation. He hoped he had misunderstood absolutely every single part of his morning with Musar.

For an infinitesimal moment he smelled clove.

He had no words. Dismas prayed he only appeared flushed by the heat and that he didn’t turn a new shade. Viara laughed but her face was gentle and sympathetic.

“Dismas...I couldn’t care less who you fuck. I hope you don’t care about who I fuck and I’m sure Musar doesn’t care WHAT he fucks.”

They laughed from their guts. It was long and genuine. Viara gasped and wheezed while Dismas cackled on and on. Their laughter tapered off into chuckles as they wiped tears from their eyes. There was another moment of calmness between them before Viara rose from her tub.

“As I’m sure you’ve surmised, we’re staying at the tavern. The room you were in is yours and mine is across the gallery” she began as she dried off with her towel.

“If you’re hungry, talk to the barkeep, he knows not to charge you. We can meet outside the tavern at half past five” she said stepping into a pair of riding boots.

“Gotcha” Dismas said, leaning back but sat up immediately when he remembered.

“Wait, what time is it?”

“I’d say three” she said, ringing out some of her hair with her hands.

“Gotcha” Dismas said, almost dizzy. It was disorienting to him having been awake so long with no track of time. He had assumed Musar woke him at some hour of morning.

“Actually, how about you join me for an early dinner so we can talk more before we leave. I have some letters to write so...let’s say in an hour?”

“My goodness. Being asked to dinner by a lady. In the buff no less” he said smirking, feigning modesty. Viara chuckled.

“Naturally you’re very welcome. I’ll collect you from your room in an hours’ time, sir.” She put her nose in the air and sauntered out of the room, adorned in a towel and riding boots.

Dismas slid deeper into the water and took a deep breath. Tonight would be simple, quick and clean. Just a bit of recon he told himself. He’d never claimed to have any type of heightened intuition but he felt a gnawing apprehension about tonight’s revelries. He took another deep breath and stood up lest he fall asleep in the tub. He’d only just finished fastening his pants and boots when he heard footsteps again.

“Forget your ladies delicate unmentionables?” he said turning around with a chuckle.

Dismas was mortified to see a large and muscular man standing there instead of Viara. He had only managed to fasten the two bottom most buttons of his shirt before freezing in place. Dismas felt exposed twofold.

“Sorry...I thought” Dismas wasn’t sure how to continue, having noticed how tall and shirtless the man was. He was sweating and as filthy as the shirt he held in his hands, chest heaving slightly as if he had been running. His pectorals shone slick, catching the light with every breath. They stared at each other in an awkward silence.

Dismas was struck dumb by his eyes. They were the most vivid emerald he’d ever seen. He was enthralled by the color and then by his face. A strong brow was held up by his otherworldly green eyes that somehow remained soft through their intensity. His nose was sturdy and most likely broken more than once. It only added a charm to him. His beard was full and dark as opposed to the delicate brown of his hair. It was short but just long enough to curve just right from the sweat.

Dismas flushed red having been so obvious. In an effort to escape the scene as soon as possible, he forsook the buttons he was fumbling with and moved to exit.

“I’m just finished up, all yours” he said briskly passing the man, eyes to the floor.

Cringing, Dismas stopped after a few steps having remembered that he'd forgotten his coat. He took a deep breath and turned. The man startled him, having already stepped toward him and closing the space between them. He held the coat out to Dismas.

“Oh! Uh...thanks very much” he managed to spit out. Before a response could be made Dismas scooped his coat from the man’s hands and left without even putting it on.

He made his way to the tavern without looking up from the ground once. Dismas lobbed his balled-up coat onto the bed and closed the door. He stood there a moment, touching his forehead to the wood. Dismas wondered if the bath had relaxed him at all now. He shuffled to the bed and sat down to search his coat for his pipe. As he moved it about to find the pockets a white wad of fabric tumbled out of the folds. He unfurled it and held it up before him a rather large, filthy tunic heavy with sweat. Dismas sighed deep and long realizing where it came from.

“Shit.”

He must have swept it up out of that man’s hands with his coat in his rush to leave the barracks. Dismas looked down at the dusty mass of sweaty tunic now in his lap, defeated. He paused, swearing he could smell...frankincense?

He sniffed the air and inhaled more of the scent. Dismas slowly lifted the shirt to his nose. It was indeed frankincense and this tunic, the source. He hesitated, then brought it closer to his face. There was a faint floral scent mixed in as well. He guessed rose or gardenia. The back of his neck tingled and he took a deeper breath. The floral was juxtaposed by the musk of warm wet skin. He remembered the fierce but sad eyes of the shirt’s owner and held it closer. It had been a long time since he’d smelled the sweat of a man let alone one as handsome as this stranger. The shirt touched the tip of his nose and broke the reverie. Dismas tossed it to the foot of the bed, frustrated and bashful. He abandoned the idea of smoking and laid down half on the bed. He decided a few moments sleep before Viara came to collect him would be best.

Dinner in the tavern downstairs consisted of a light stew and even lighter conversation. Dismas and Viara traded stories of their own exploits as hardened criminals and other morally questionable escapades. She rolled her eyes explaining her tedious childhood of governesses and French lessons. He regaled her with how he learned to swindle people in card games and bamboozle others with lies about palmistry and divination. They laughed a good portion of the hour and it eased his mind some. If she had secrets to keep, he wouldn’t find them out over stew in a semi crowded tavern. Enjoying himself was easy.

The signal to leave was a looming Musar surprising them at the table. He smiled widely, glad to have caught them off guard. Dismas avoided eye contact with the man who was obviously staring. He drank from his cup with intentional slothfulness, believing the least amount of communication between them the best.

“Supplies are ready” he said to Viara while looking at Dismas.

“Do you generally interrupt dinners you’ve not been invited to?” She asked, adjusting her wide brimmed hat and looking up at him.

“Generally, no. Unless what’s on the table is too good not to taste.”

Dismas glared up at the smiling bounty hunter and his plump lips. That disarming smile only added to his terrifying mystique. Even in the dim candlelight of the tavern his amber colored eyes glowed. Dismas wondered if his stubble was simply forever that perfect length.

“Dinners over, mate” Dismas said standing, he took a final swig from his cup and put it down harder than necessary. He meant to appear threatening but knew once he was at full height only an army behind Dismas would help in any attempt at intimidating Musar. He’d almost forgotten how much taller than mostly everyone in the room Musar was.

He stepped up to Dismas.

“That depends on what I wanna eat” he said looking Dismas in the eyes, unblinking. He leaned down closer, reaching for Dismas cup. Eyes still on him, Musar traced his tongue across the lip of the cup where Dismas had drank from. He emptied its contents in one loud gulp. Viara appeared shocked but not enough to look away.

“Fuck off” Dismas barked. He stepped around the hulking manhunter and exited the tavern. The man was wholly indecent even in public.

He knew the air outside to be cold but his seething frustration and full belly protected him from the immediate chill of it. More so from habit than weather, he lifted his scarf closer to his nose. Dismas turned his back to the flow of a sudden breeze and adjusted his gloves. There was a scent on the wind.... frankincense and rose.

Dismas indulged himself and inhaled the scent deeply. For a moment, he was calm.

“Good evening” a muffled voice came from behind him. Dismas turned to behold a familiar animated suit of armor.

“Yea, hey” Dismas mumbled in response, turning back around.

He tensed up. This was the first time they’d seen each other after Reynauld carried him, blacked out, up to his room the night before. He felt he was protecting them both by deciding not to mention the subject. It gnawed at him though, the man had helped him. He started to feel the chill of the night. Dismas sighed and turned around. Highwayman he may be, he didn’t feel he’d fallen low enough to abandon all common courtesy. Before he could even try to formulate any type of thank you, the tavern door swung open with perhaps more force than necessary.

“...yeah and there’s a brothel” Viara had finished saying to a now helmed Musar. She adjusted her hat to the slight wind and smiled broadly at Dismas.

“Ah Reynauld, you’re here.”

“I’ve replaced the spade for two more torches. I believe them more practical. You said you had no intention of traveling deep into the ruins.” Reynaud’s body still faced Dismas as he spoke.

Visor down. Still no eye contact.

It unnerved him just as much as it did last night but there was something else now. Reynauld had seen him not just vulnerable but utterly helpless. He had been completely unconscious in his arms. Now the thought of being stared at by him was all the more penetrating.

Dismas felt suddenly embarrassed and resented the man’s very existence. He hated owing anyone in material ways let alone in this manner. It meant something to repay such a debt and Dismas wasn’t sure how to honor such a thing. Especially considering the recipient. Would he even care that Dismas was grateful?

Dismas rolled his eyes at himself mentally.

“Well done, thank you. And I quite agree, my dear, we most certainly shall not tarry in such a place.” Viara drew her coat closer as a gust of wind surged through them.  
“Shall we then?” Musar asked delicately in mock. He had stepped closer to the three, silently Dismas noticed. His stealth was somehow more alarming outside in the open. He averted his eyes from Musar. Now he too was masked, eyes hidden. Dismas only just then noticed how much he abhorred being stared at. Cosmic joke being that the trigger to such a revelation was because he didn’t know if he was being stared at to begin with. The thought that unseen eyes might be upon him made his chest tight. He took a deep breath.

The four of them stood there in silence for a moment, awkwardly placed in front of the tavern. They weren’t standing apart but remained disjointed. The space between them was filled with a miasma of trepidation, each of them feeding it. Dismas felt it an inauspicious moment of silence for them as the wind coursed through the broken party.  
The scent was carried on the breeze again and Dismas was torn between looming fear and a soft comfort. He felt hope for a moment. He opened his eyes at the sound of metallic steps. Reynauld stood closer and the scent intensified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They fight next i swear!!  
> Thanks and sorry!
> 
> I have the bestest friend ever Olwenwhitetrack. No one better to go to with garbage. Read her stuff its great!


	5. Week 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We better stock up on some knowledge here, otherwise we're gonna get murdered by ghosts."

The silence in the ruins engulfed them as tangibly as its shadows did, their footfalls gobbled up by the starving darkness. The halls were wide and in the all-consuming abyss, the torch light could barely illuminate both sides and it threatened to snuff out the flame with every step they took. Leading with the torch held aloft, Reynauld veered them closer to one side and pressed on. Having one blind spot was better than two. The new path against the wall provided little comfort to Dismas, as the adjacent wall now completely disappeared into the blackness. He was surprised when Reynauld immediately opposed the idea of him bringing up the rear. The crusader insisted that Musar take second position from the end to provoke enmity away from Dismas, should he be set upon. They marched forward and Dismas was glad Musar walked in front of him rather than behind him.

The first few rooms they entered were barren and dusty, having been long forgotten. As they walked on, the rooms off the halls became fewer and far between. Intersections sprung up, forcing moments of pause to consult the map. The first boon they came upon was a discarded pack filled with heirlooms.

“Finally,” Vaira whispered as she stashed several documents and deeds into her bag.

Dismas couldn’t fathom what possible price they could fetch but couldn’t care less. Each time they paused to search a chest or pack, a ringing in his ears threatened to deafen him. Dismas dared not mention it to the others, afraid that saying it out loud would manifest something from the dark. The dark however didn’t wait for words from Dismas.

A corpse sprawled halfway out of the doorway to an upcoming room came into view. Reynauld motioned for them to pause and handed Viara the torch behind him. A faint glow could be seen emanating from the room ahead. They all stood perfectly still, straining their ears to hear for any movement from within.

Reynaud drew his sword and he held it at the ready. He cautiously stepped forward and positioned himself next to the doorframe to sneak a peek inside. The source of light they’d seen was from a collection of candles on the wall opposite the entrance. The delicate candlelight illuminated a relief depicting a monk in prayer. Reynauld stationed himself just outside the room as the others filed in to search it thoroughly. Dismas knelt next to the corpse, recognizing the familiar dark green garbs and elementary weapons; the bandits from the old road.

“Leave him. Something for the ferryman, Dismas” Musar genuinely asked as he rummaged through the room’s solitary bookshelf. Dimas knew he didn’t mean it sarcastically and was touched to hear Musar share such a sentiment.

“Won’t be hard, whatever killed him left him more than enough for a ride with ol’Charon” Dismas said as he held up various pouches of coin and jewels.

Reynauld suddenly hurried into the room and snatched the torch from Viara. He plunged it into a puddle that had formed in a deep crack in the floor. Now the only light came from the few candles on the makeshift altar.

“To the walls” Reynauld whispered.

Musar and Viara moved to one side of the doorway and Reynauld and Dismas to the other.

The party listened as hefty footsteps moved slowly down the tenebrous hall. As they drew nearer, breathing became audible. They could hear only a hollow inhale and no exhale. The sounds grew louder, keeping a lethargic pace.

The steady march stopped directly outside the room.

Every atom that Dismas was made of tensed. Fear poured into his lungs, slowly rising in them like ice water. It took his breath away, as if he was gulping in some artic wind. Even the candle flames shrank, as if holding their breath. Could one drown from fear?

They froze when a large and unnaturally long arm slowly crept into view. The hollow inhale was closer and on the verge of becoming a wheeze. The arm hovered across the body and in the light, they were horrified at its state. From fingertip to elbow, its’ scarred and hairy grey skin, was wet with blood. The arms musculature shone slick in the candlelight. Tendons in its clawed hands and forearm flexed as it seized a fistful of the corpses vest. With ungodly speed, whatever was outside the room dragged the lifeless body into the hall. Dismas closed his eyes and readied his pistol. They all strained their ears.

The steps began again and for a moment time stopped.

Which way would it go now?

It began to shuffle away from them, steady thuds now accompanied by the scarping of a corpse against the stone floor. They remained petrified until it grew too faint to hear and even then, when total silence invaded the space, they didn’t dare move.

Reynauld turned his head to Dismas as they stood with their backs against the wall. He watched as Dismas took slow and intentional breaths. His eyes were closed in focus and it gave Reynauld the chance to take him in. The last time he beheld Dismas in a moment of stillness he was in bed, bathed in moonlight. Then, Dismas lay heavy on clean white linens, adorably red cheeked from drink and drooling just a little at the corner of his mouth. He remembers how gentle his breathing was, chest rising slow and steady from slumber. Reynauld felt bashful remembering how he lingered by his bed that night, selfishly taking in the sight. Presently, Dismas is trying to steady his breathing and Reynauld can’t believe how much he loathes seeing him this way. He immediately wanted to leave because what shook Reynauld now was the all-encompassing need to protect this man.

“Are you alright?” he whispered at Dismas. He had no verse to exorcise the genuine care in his voice. Dismas opened his eyes, caught off guard hearing the question spoken so softly, abating his fear momentarily.

“Yea. You?” Dismas was barely audible to himself.

He tried desperately to peer through the helmets slit, knowing the eyes behind it gazed at him. Reynauld unjustly took complete advantage of being able to look directly into his eyes, safe behind a visor. He would never confess to him how greedily he ate up his visage at such a time. He could not allow this man to know how his glances pierced through him without him even trying. Fear and desire smothered the verses, his mind stuttering. He centered himself with a slow steady breath. They need to keep going.

“Don’t move,” he said touching the back of his gauntlet to Dismas’ chest.

The crusader turned to the others across the threshold and motioned to Musar. The two men stepped toward the entryway and Dismas was now eternally grateful they could be so light on their feet. He watched Musar turn and whisper something to Viara. She delicately unfastened a torch from his back and handed it to him. Viara struck a flintstone at the saturated cloth wrapped around the one end of the torch. As the flames burst forth, Musar dashed into the hallway, Reynauld in tow. The two men stood back to back, peering into the darkness around them. Viara and Dismas followed suit soon after with their respective weapons at the ready. They were alone in the dark and the silence threatened to deafen them. Dismas took a deep breath, resolute to collect himself.

They stood again disjointed and looked between each other.

“Let’s press on, shall we?” Viara slowly whispered.

“Are you insane?” Dismas asked baffled. His mind, body and soul cried out to leave this place with as much haste as humanly possible. That arm wasn’t human, and he didn’t need it confirmed.

“Viara maybe- “Musar began but she quickly silenced him, snatching the torch from his hands.

“Were not leaving empty handed,” she said sharply. “We can make a left here, double back around and come to the exit from the other side” Viara finished more delicately than she began.

“Why, because you know which way whatever that was went?” he rebutted.

“We don’t need to know. If we stay quiet, we can safely gather some loot while making our way out” she said trying to convince herself rather than anyone else.

“You still want to raid the place with some creature roaming about? Please remember that it dragged that corpse away” Dismas whispered as strongly as he could.

“I see no reason why we can’t peak into some rooms while we take the long way back to leave.”

“Monsters lurking in this shadowy abyss seems like a reason to me. Which speaking of current ruins residence, I thought you said bandits were squatting in here.” Dismas tried to whisper.

“That looked like a bandit to me” she snarked back hooking an eyebrow.

“Fine smart ass, what the hell happened to this being a recon miss- “Dismas was abruptly interrupted.

“Enough of your fatuous prattle!” Reynauld tried to mute the bark as best he could. He stepped toward them and took the flame from Viara, her face appalled.

“We need to keep moving” Musar said as he closed the small circle that they created at the base of the torch held above them. It was the first time Dismas heard urgency in Musars voice, and it unsettled him.

“Which way did you say the map could take us around?” Reynauld looked to Viara.

“The left behind you” she answered, her arms crossed at her chest.

Reynauld turned to lead them on and was suddenly struck from one side. He flew off his feet back into the room, the torch falling to the ground before the remaining three. Its light now cast upward and exposed a hideous beast. It stared down at them with huge, lidless eyes. They were white, no iris, no pupils. Could it see?

Viara leapt into the room after Reynauld, dodging a second swipe from the towering creatures abnormally long, ape like arms. Musar stepped forward and planted his feet shoulder width apart, rooting himself to the spot. He bent his knees, lurched upward and slammed into the monsters slacked jaw with a powerful uppercut. It stumbled backward, becoming semi shrouded in darkness. As it stepped back into the light’s periphery, Dismas was sick to behold large skulls slung across its chest like some profane string of pearls. His pistol trembled in his hand and his mouth went dry. The ghoul shook its head abruptly, trying to regain focus, its long, fanged mouth hung open and bloody. It arched its back and stretched its neck to its fullest extent. The malefic howl reverberated and shook the space. Dismas had never heard such a sound, it was both a shrill screech and a deep bellow. The pair were paralyzed from horror.

Dismas’ body eclipsed his mind and he instinctually raised his gun and fired, the bullet logging into one side of the beast’s jaw. The gunshot bounced off the walls, combating the residual howl with its own vibrations. A second later, a dagger flew from within the room and pierced the beasts’ chest. Blood frothed pink in its mouth as it tried to cry out. The monster swung wildly and Musar tackled Dismas out of harm’s way into the room. The monstrous fiend stomped on the fallen torch that struggled to breathe. It paused, framing itself in the doorway. All that shone now were the few candles burning behind the party. The candle flame provided enough light to make the ghoul visible but their flickering casted flashing shadows about the room.

It stepped inside and Reynauld moved first. He swung confidently and in perfect form. His strike was true, giving Musar and Dismas enough time to stand up. Dismas stepped backward a safe enough distance to reload while Viara moved forward and flung another dagger at their grotesque enemy. Reynauld absorbed a strike from above, forced to take a step back.

“COVERYOUREYES!!” Musar shouted from the other side of the room.

They quickly turned away as he pelted the hideous beast with a small bomb. It exploded in a blinding flash of light and stinging sulfur. Crackling sparks swarmed about its head like furious wasps. It opened its jaw as wide as it could, cracking one side out of its joint and howled again. In the contained space, its vibrations bounced off the walls, cascading the sound over itself. It felt like each wall was howling at them independently. Reynauld knelt under the weight of sheer terror and clutched his chest, unable to catch his breath. Viara stumbled backward into Dismas, sending his pistol fumbling from his hands and she onto her backside.

It pulled a skull from its chest strap and threw it at Musar with terrifying speed. The skull collided with his midsection and shattered to pieces. He crumbled to his knees, gasping for air. Reynauld took another strike from above. Half blocked, it sent the crusader tripping backwards against the wall. His helmet buffered the aggressive slam into the stone. Reynauld straightened himself on a wobbly knee and brandished his sword. Dismas lunged forward to interrupt the next blow. Utilizing his stature, he pierced upward directly into the monster’s armpit. The beast stumbled backward, dizzy from the strike. Viara lunged next, her dagger sliding between two of its emaciated ribs. She leapt away from an incoming attack in a burst of black smoke. With Viara no longer visible it turned to Dismas, its jaw swinging out of its joint. It struck him with a quick backhand but Dismas parried, slicing up the length of the things forearm.

It arched its back again and flexed its entire body. The howl rang out, multiplied again by the walls of the room. Viara dug the balls of her hands into her ears screaming. Dismas started to hyperventilate as tears blurred his vison and silhouetted shadows moved like new bodies in the room. They all shook from horror. The sound was otherworldly, the beasts mouth a portal to some pit in the deepest hell. The shaking floor sent Dismas tripping over his own feet trying to back away from the wailing monstrosity. Viara stood up, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, her face determined. She threw several daggers at the creature and each one dug deep into its grey flesh. It wasted no time in ripping another skull from its strap and hurled it at her. Viara turned and raised her shoulder to act as a shield. The vulgar projectile burst into a small cloud of dust, coating half her face. She doubled over battling a coughing fit.

The ghoul wretched up and thick strands of bloody membrane dripped down its broken jaw. It moved toward Dismas again, alien like arm raised high. Reynauld stepped out from the shadows of Dismas peripheral vision and stood squarely before the incoming fiend. He yanked a scroll from his belt and unfurled it before him. As the scroll rolled open, beams of light burst forth. The paper seemed to be made of flames and its letters glowed white hot. The rays singed the ghouls’ entire body with brilliant light, the flash lingering in the room a moment and irradiated the space. Even the candles burned brighter from the dazzling burst. The ghoul stumbled several steps backward, swinging wildly as smoke rose off its charring skin. Musar whipped his grappling hook and coiled it around the abominations shoulder and neck. He heaved with all his might and brought the monster down to one knee. Musar let his axe slide through his palm, catching it by the very tip between only two knuckles. He swung down at the beast in an exaggerated arch, reaching twice his arm’s length. His axeblade cleaved the monsters’ shoulder, lodging itself into bone. The ghoul yowled in pain and shoulder checked Musar in his chest. The bounty hunter staggered to the wall, never surrendering his grip on the chain.

Reynauld ran up to the kneeling horror and slashed horizontally at its shoulder. The towering creature lurched forward on bent knee, its gapping maw biting down on Reynaud’s helmet. Dismas watched mortified as its broken jaw tried to grip the crusader by his head. Reynauld quickly unfastened himself from the helmet and stumbled out of it. The helmet fell from the monster’s mouth and he gripped Reynaulds’ exposed neck with its free hand. Dismas frantically scanned the floor, spotting his pistol between him and the demon trying to kill Reynauld. With a graceful dash forward and a quick tumble, Dismas scooped up his gun and slid to his feet. He leveled himself with the kneeling fiend, now the same height and shot it point blank between the eyes. It swayed before sinking under its own dead weight.

Even the candlelight remained still. They each were out of breath and barely made a sound. Viara moved over to Dismas and grabbed him by the wrist. Tears had borne streaks in the dust that coated her face. Her lips parted as if to speak and she quickly sealed them. She took a deep breath and tried to but failed to speak again. Vaira’s eyes looked at Dismas in desperation.

“I don’t know…” Dismas whispered, trying to keep his own voice steady. He knew she meant to ask what they all were thinking…

What the fuck is this thing?

They were still for a moment, each not wanting to look at the hideous thing they’d conquered. Dismas took some solace in that and sighed in relief. Nothing could explain this being, but they triumphed over it. The candles remained enkindled by Reynaud’s holy scroll and illuminated the room more than before. It was a comfort to be surrounded by such a resilient light even in the presence of such an unholy creature.

“Is anyone injured?” Reynauld broke the silence as he fastened his helmet.

Dismas could see small dents in the metal and was glad the monsters jaw was broken before it tried to eat Reynaud’s head. If the nightmarish creature had all its strength behind the bite, he couldn’t imagine the scene he would have witnessed. For the first time, Dismas was glad for the crusader’s helmet.

As reality calibrated itself, the invigorated light brought the room into sharper focus. They looked around at the blood that had been splattered and splashed all about the field of battle. The felled beast took up more space, no longer cloaked by darkness. The room itself now visibly smaller without shadows adding facets of depth all over.

Dismas began to reload his pistol in a feeble attempt to divert the manic energy that surged through him. Relief and terror were bizarre to feel at once.

Reynauld stepped up to Viara as she wiped skull dust off her face. She put her hands up in surrender.

“Yes yes, we’re leaving. We most certainly are leaving,” Viara adjusted her hat whilst observing the devastation. The candles dimmed; the essence of the scrolls holy purpose succumbing to the crushing dark. Musar removed his grappling hook from the dead thing and secured it once more to his belt. Viara abandoned the daggers she’d thrown at the heinous monster.

“Let’s move. If we’ve made our presence known, we can’t linger. Heaven only knows what else roosts here” Musar half whispered. He unfastened an unlit torch from the rooms wall and ignited it with the candles. Dismas watched as he flexed his hand, adjusting his grip repeatedly around the torch. It was obvious and strange to see Musar anxious. He could not enjoy it, nor did he want to. Dismas and Musar’s anxiety agreed that leaving was paramount to everything else in the world right now.

“Quickest is right back the way we came” Viara told the bounty hunter.

Musar didn’t wait for an exchange of any kind and made for the exit. Viara wasted no time in following him.

“Go. I’ll be behind you.” Reynauld said to Dismas as he motioned to the exit. Dismas didn’t hesitate and couldn’t deny it made him feel safe knowing Reynauld separated him from ravenous clutching shadows of this place.

Musar was careful in his steps but quick with his pace. His urgency was palpable and Dismas feared what consequences they may suffer forsaking stealth for speed. Viara tried to interrupt his strides asking about the map but he simply grunted and continued to lead them. He stopped abruptly jumping backward. A clang and unsheathing of metal rang out as long slender spikes erupted from the ground. Dismas caught Viara by the elbow stabilizing her. Musar leaned on the wall, having lept away quick enough not to be impaled. His thick leather boot however was sliced clean along his calf. The wound wasn’t deep but was bleeding substantially. Viara sucked her teeth at him as if his wound somehow inconvenienced her more.

“Where the fuck did that come from?!” Musar breathed as aggressively as he could without shouting. He immediately began to remove his boot. Dismas walked over to him having been designated to hold the bandages. He smirked to himself, the humor of it not lost on him. Musar lowered himself to the floor and extended his leg out.

“Do you need help?” Dismas asked offering up the pristine roll of cloth.

“No thank you wasim” Musar spoke calmly, almost a purr as he took the bandages. Dismas didn’t understand what he said but decided not to question the man and let him tend to his injury. Either pain or fear appeared to have focused him and he wrapped up his calf with an efficient haste. Musar cautiously put his boot back on, wincing from behind his veil. Dismas instinctively went to help but Reynauld stepped in. He hoisted Musar to his feet and handed him the torch he had dropped.

“Slow down” Reynauld said, jabbing a finger into his chest. Viara interrupted Musar before he could mouth off.

“To hell with slowing down! This trap wasn’t here before because this isn’t the way we came in. This fool has us lost and I’m the idiot that gave him the map.” Viara walked over to him with her hand held out. Musar presented the map to her and she snatched it with an exaggerated swipe. She turned her back to him and studied it.

They had paused at an intersection a few feet beyond the trap that almost killed Musar. The path directly in front of them was blocked by an apparent cave in. The rubble was piled from floor to shattered ceiling and Musar propped himself on a boulders’ jutting edge. Viara looked from left to right at the two paths that remain clear of debris. She took care to interpret the ancient parchment properly to avoid getting lost in the labyrinth of the ruins.

“Well, if we carry on this way,” she indicated left “it looks like there’s a courtyard we can cross to an exit on the other end of the ruins.”

“On the other end? As in the wrong end? We’d be outside but the ruins would still be between us and the road back” Dismas asked trying to remember the lay of the land.

“This is true but I’d rather a walk through the woods to the old road rather than traverse this place any longer than we have to” Viara said more disappointed than afraid.

They didn’t need to communicate any further. All questions and comments about the ruins and all therein would have to wait till much, much later. They didn’t have the supplies to linger and this place was far different than they originally had perceived. Escape and regroup became the implicit strategy.

Musar shoved off his support boulder and they had barely left the crossroads when they heard an echo. Down the hall they’d come from they heard the wet slapping of bare feet on stone. Musar drew the last torch and lit it by the flame of Reynaud’s. He jammed the lit torch into a broken sconce and Reynauld followed suit on the opposite wall. The light from both ends lit up their immediate space, setting a proverbial stage. They readied their weapons.

Down the darkened tunnel a glimmer of light shone coming around the corner. The barer of the light was a robbed woman, face covered from nose up. Dismas immediately noticed her helmet creating the same five spiked arch of Vaira’s family crest. Her mouth curved into a sick grimace like smile. She was gliding forward, no feet visible beyond the shadows of her robes.

The man next to her was scarcely clothed. He was crouched and bent forward rocking back and forth. Shaking hands clawed at a cut and bleeding scalp. It was obvious his hair had been pulled out and he was probably the culprit. He cried as he picked scabs open and jabbered on under his breath. Before anyone could react, the strange woman bent down and hissed something at the tortured man. He cowered lower, slapping himself in the head harder and harder. He bit his lips bloody trying not to scream. She hissed louder in a strange language at the man and he yelped in pain, clawing at his forearms so hard they bled. The woman raised a crude scepter above her head and shadows erupted from the ground at his feet. He screamed until the veins in his neck threatened to burst. His eyes bulged and he began striking himself in the face. He ran down the hallway, stopped halfway toward the group and slammed his head against the wall repeatedly. He knelt and wept, shouting hoarsely in pain. The woman was still slowly floating toward them looking pleased.

Dismas made the mistake of making eye-contact with the mad-man. His bugged-out eyes welled with tears and he clawed at his cheeks. He began wailing with such inner force that blood vessels popped in his eyes and bled. He stood up perfectly straight and pointed an outstretched arm at Dismas, eyes blackened and pouring blood. The psychotic man cried out in the same disturbing language as the foul woman and a whip like shadow lashed out from his arm.

It streaked through Dismas and there was a sudden quiet. He instantly started to feel the chill of snow on his neck and heard a woman screaming in the distance. He could see that carriage in his mind’s eyes. He stepped back trying to hold his ground against the vision, but the very walls writhed like black tentacles. Each time he blinked he saw more snow and the room phased into that night on the road so many years ago. Dismas shook the screaming images from his mind refusing to succumb to madness. He shot at the man, glad the pistols reverberance could silence his hallucinations. Dismas missed and started to reload. Viara swung at the jittering madman with her pickaxe over and over. His frightening mania fueled a sickening agility that started to agitate rather than scare her.

The hovering witch moved swiftly toward Musar as if carried on some wind. A gust of black shadows surged at him like visible waves of force and broke across his body. Dismas watched him recoil and shudder on his newly injured leg. He laughed and shook the fear from his entire body like a dog shaking off rain. Musar charged roaring, snubbing the searing pain up his calf. She shouted back in her devil tongue and a slit tore in the very fabric of space before her. It dilated and a massive tentacle curled outward, pushing a stunned Musar onto his ass.

The lunatic leapt into the center of the battle ground and wailed into the darkness. His shout burst outward in a wave of doom. They each were weighed down by visions of the end times. They saw the world burning and heard the tortured cries of hundreds thundering in their ears. Cities crumbled and the street ran red with blood. Viara cried out as the occultist summoned another tentacle from the abyss, shoving her backward. Reynauld dashed forward to the screaming lunatic and bashed his skull with the pommel of his sword, stunning him silent. They were saved from the apocalyptic nightmares.

Reynauld turned to the occultist and didn’t waste the chance. She opened her rotting mouth and shrieked a vile incantation at him

“BY THE LIGHT BE DAMNED!!” He bellowed over her voice.

Reynauld launched himself forward and skewered the woman on his blade. He slid her off the sword and stomped down on her face several times, stuffing her final curse back into her crushed mouth. Dismas rushed over to the stunned lunatic and executed him from behind.

The area was still again, the torch light dimming from each of the sconces. Viara helped Musar shuffle over to the nearest wall so he could re-warp his leg. Her face had gone so pale Dismas swore she’d glow if the torches went out.

“You seem a tad wain friend” she playfully chided Musar, trying to lift the veil of his helmet. He snorted and swatted at her hand. Viara giggled and leaned against the wall next to him. She rested her head on the harsh stone and used all the mental force she could muster to stop from weeping. Dismas was suddenly close and gripped her forearm. She looked from the ceiling into his eyes, tears threatening to overflow. Dismas squeezed and she squeezed back. He bent down and picked up her hat with his free hand.

“Put your hat on” he let his voice crack just a little. Viara brushed the hair from her face before securing her hat.

“Thank you Dismas” she said as cool as a cucumber, her shaking hands betraying her. He adjusted her hat while she patted dust off his shoulders.

“You gonna…adjust me up too?” Musar said, his laugh abruptly breaking into a cough.

“Get up” Reynauld growled as he pulled Musar off the wall. For a moment they had each-other by their respective collars, deadlocked.

Dismas rolled his eyes and tore one of the torches off the wall and without a word he began down the path he believed led to their salvation. Reynauld and Musar turned and watched him make his way, the light he held becoming dimmer with each step. Reynaulds heart dropped out of his stomach and he let go first. He barely marched in Dismas’ direction before whispers rushed to his ears. Reynauld moved slower, now combating his self-inflicted duality. He and the many voices recited the verse in earnest, desperately trying to smother the vision forming. What verse could possibly assuage his guilt for holding onto this memory? The cinnamon glow of Dismas eyes in that rooms’ candlelight, he feared he would never be free of.

For by grace I have been saved through faith.  
By the light I incline my heart to your testimonies and not to selfish gain.  
Walk by the flame and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.

You will not indulge.  
You will not indulge.  
You will not indulge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wasim is arabic for handsome ^_^


	6. A spoonful of sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctors arrive unceremoniously to the hamlet.  
> Viara lays down some law.  
> Dismas enjoys the devils lettuce.

The party exited the woods that flanked the ruins relatively unscathed. They were surprised when greeted by a few of the more able-bodied residents of the hamlet waiting on the road back to town with horses and water. Viara expressed gratitude but scolded the young men. She asked that they remember, they are the future of the hamlet and that the road is far too dangerous for anyone just standing about waiting for a party that may not return. She sent them back with their few spoils and Musar as to not agitate his wound. The remaining three now walked at a brisker pace without their injured comrade, making the trip back a welcomed blur.

They paused at the hamlets center when they arrived, only the tavern and the blacksmiths forge still emanated light.

“Well I’m off to the barracks, Musar is staying there and I want to make sure he’s alright.” Viara tried to sound bright, “I’m certain we can agree that discussing the nights’ events can wait till we’ve had a good rest.”

Dismas could not agree more.

“I’ll say good night” Viara tipped her hat gingerly and walked off to the barracks as they called out their respective goodnights at her as she went.

Reynauld turned to face Dismas, the man not yet facing him. He followed Dismas eyes up to the night sky and fully understood why he stood so captivated. The evening was so clear that star clusters glinted and glittered, the Milky Way a sparkling river of stars and smoke across the visible expanse. The hamlets fire light was drowned out by glowing blues and white, the galatea moon melding effortlessly with the severe navy of the night. But even the moon appeared meager against the limitless profanity of the stars.

They turned away from the heavens simultaneously. Dismas only just realized this was the first time he was alone with Reynauld and shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure.

“I’m not certain the time but I imagine its quite late.” Reynauld said, fighting the impulse to step toward him. He could not comprehend this gravity that surrounded Dismas and understood less his desire to succumb to it.

“Yea, I don’t really know how long we were in there” Dismas replied, a chill running up his spine at the mere mention of where they had been.

“Certainly not the simple task we expected” Reynauld shifted on his feet, also unsure.

“I used to say nothing surprises me but now I’m worried I may have tested fate all these years sayin that” Dismas said chuckling perhaps more to himself than to the crusader.

Reynauld grinned like a fool behind his visor seeing and hearing Dismas laugh for the first time. The moonlight lit the mans’ eyes aglow, a stunning vermillion burning like a flame in the dark. Even Dismas’ skin took in the light from the stars and became ethereal, almost ghostly against the stark darkness of his clothing. Reynauld waged war against a singular thought as they stood awkwardly together; he’s beautiful.

Dismas too embraced the silent pause between them and stared. This faceless person not only fought beside him but protected him within hours of meeting. Dismas believes actions do indeed speak louder than words and in the case of Reynauld, he’s an armor-clad contradiction. He hadn’t said much to Dismas in general but the little he did express was either a tepid insult or he interrupted him just to dismiss him entirely. In the heat of battle though, they orbited each other effortlessly. Some osmosis made hasty by the fervor of combat, brought them nearer and nearer each other at just the right time, each step kismet. Dismas resigned to not needing to see his face to feel endeared to him and he hated that.

Reynauld muttered a verse almost aloud. It stung his mouth and a whisper grazed his ear as if it were an echo of the many voices from afar. He shuddered in his armor fittings and felt their weight for the first time all evening.

“Well…bedtime seems like the right time to me” Dismas mimicked shooting a pistol in each hand.

He broke the silence and regretted every syllable he had uttered. Reynauld chuckled heartily, genuinely amused and now heard only the soothing rustling of trees swaying in the wind. Dismas both summoned and banished the verses from his mind and what he loathed more was that this stranger, challenges his piety by simply existing near him.

“I should be to the abbey” Reynauld said it abruptly, surprising even himself.

“It’s kind of late for construction no?” Dismas asked puzzled.

“The monks have given me a spare room since the abbot and several of their number died. It helps me to focus staying there…it’s comforting” Reynauld seized the word ‘focus’ and took a deep breath.

“No yea I get it. Good to have a place for that in times like this. A person should keep things that comfort them close.” The melancholy in Dismas’ voice caught them both off-guard and he internally cringed at every word he spoke in the past three minutes. Reynauld again combated the innate gravity of this man and how he jeopardizes the obstinate inertia of his mighty principles. For the first time, after all he’d learned of himself on his travels through the east and across the continent, Reynauld once again stood on the bladed precipice of self-awareness. Would causality be his damnation or deliverance?

“Goodnight” Reynauld said first, he couldn’t bare anymore push and pull.

“Goodnight”. Dismas replied immediately, he couldn’t bare anymore looks from unseen eyes.

Once he locked his door Dismas undressed, needing to shed the evening. It was too late for a bath, so he was glad the porcelain amphora by the water basin was full. Dismas lit several candles and stood topless by the basin gently wiping down his arms and chest, only just then realizing how sore he actually was. He washed his face and retreated to his bed where he removed what was left of his attire. He didn’t need to fight back tears; he was too tired to flex enough to weep. Tonight, made no sense in and out of the ruins and on top of all that, the suit of armor that keeps saving his life makes him act like a teenage fool.

Finger guns?

Dismas was mortified anew by the thought and buried his face in his pillows. Luckily, his brain and body were both so depleted that chaos and confusion couldn’t keep sleep at bay. His eyes began blinking in slow motion as he drifted off with the candles still lit, delicate shimmering orbs floating in the distance. He would let them burn and gladly admit that after tonight, part of him was absolutely afraid of the dark. Their subdued radiance reminded him of the candles in the ruins and for a moment he felt fear but then remembered Reynauld. He was with him in that light and it gave him courage. As he began to accede to slumber, the image of a crusaders helm shining brilliantly, illuminating the darkness lingered amongst the flickering lights. Before the memory faded to black Dismas swore he saw a glint of green and hopelessly grasped at his vision, knowing sleep would make him forget.

Dismas woke slowly and naturally. It was light out and heavily overcast but with no scent of rain coming, he didn’t mind the glimmer of gloom in the air. Dismas was glad he wouldn’t have to be oppressed by a beating sun and instead held to the calm, comforting and still bosom that is the color gray. The sky was tufts and piles of pillowy ashen clouds that kept any possible indication of time a mystery. Dismas’ entire body was so contentedly in a state of torpor that he couldn’t care less what time of day it was.

What woke up with him however was a reel of the perils they faced the previous evening. Part of him was made tired again and he sighed. How and what would they have to overcome next? Before the fragile mental dam sleep had erected cracked and crumbled, he focused on taking on a far more soluble obstruction to his sanity, hunger. He dressed and rinsed his mouth with some gin from his flask, never wanting to offend. Dismas strapped his wide waistbelt around him over his shirt taking a deep breath, it may as well be a corset he thought. He paused by his pistol and blade and decided to leave them and his coat behind. Once downstairs in the almost desolate tavern, he sat at the bar and asked only for water.

Dismas’ shoulder was gently tapped but he still flinched ever so slightly, the gesture plucking him from the whirlpool of scenes from last night that threated to pull him into some unfathomable depth of dread.

“Forgive me sir” the wizened man said looking far too worried relative to the action he seeks forgiveness for.

“Not really been called that before.” Dismas said it more naturally than intentionally trying to ease the moment. The old man chuckled though it was saturated in anxiety.

“Can I help?” Dismas quickly added to avoid any type of awkwardness. It was far too early for him to have to socialize with anyone let alone this rickety stranger.

“Ah, it is not I that needs assistance. The marquess has asked me to wake you. I’m glad to find I did not have to be such an inconvenience.” He smiled at Dismas far more relaxed. He could understand a provincial old man may be worried having to knock on the door of a sleeping criminal. That aside, Dismas didn’t understand him.

“The marquess?” he asked puzzled.

“Yes, lady Viara.”

It’s too early for this

“Where is she friend?” Dismas wafted ambivalence and filed away ‘the marquess’ for later.

“The sanitarium. Several doctors arrived this morning and one of them wore a plague mask as if we all are contagions of some sickness. I believe it unsettled the sisters.”

Dismas sighed trying not to ponder too much on what a plague mask is, it was clear he was about to find out. He put his cup down and the old man stepped to the side as Dismas rose from his stool. He was off put by the combination of fear and reverence such an elderly man would so transparently feel. He was saddened by the behavior; he was here to help these people. Leaving the tip of that ice-burg alone, Dismas exited the tavern and made for the sanitarium up the road. He saw from his small distance away Viara standing amongst five others, the two other women amongst them were engrossed in a heated debate. Viara turned to Dismas’ approach.

“Good morning my love” she spoke softly trying not to interrupt the other two women. Her clothes were casual but still exceptionally fine in detail. As always, most of her fingers were adorned with bejeweled rings of all types and sizes, her hair up in a perfect bun.

“Morning…uh what’s going on?” Dismas asked nodding his chin up at the arguing couple.

“Well the sisters that run the sanitarium don’t seem to agree with the doctors I’ve summoned for the hamlet. Particularly the one woman amongst the four. Apparently, their treatments are far too modern for the sisters,” she said smirking, crossing her arms and taking in the scene. There stood the sister in question wearing her simple frock and dramatic cornett, looking stoned faced as she listened to the smaller woman speak.

“Amateur blood-letting would surely exsanguinate him!” she said at the ruthless sisters’ sever countenance.

“Amateur?!” the sister gasped at her. The smaller framed woman wore heavy dark green robes adorned with spiked shoulder guards Dismas thought strange for a doctor. Her hair fell slightly beyond her chin, as black as pitch and her skin a pale olive tone. She was delicately featured but her nose was strong and pronounced. He observed her profile as she spoke and would wager Mediterranean blood flowed in her veins, she was classically beautiful. He caught sight of a strange and unsettling mask hooked at her waist. It looked like the skull of a giant bird turned into a helmet and Dismas refused to ponder the function of its design.

“Yes! Amateur! I assure you he is most certainly poisoned and if an antivenom is not administered gradually, bloodletting alone won’t save him and in fact kill him.” The plague doctor piped rather than barked at the shocked sister.

“You’ve only just seen the patient and are challenging my techniques and authority?! You barge in with these pretenders and begin to dictate orders to the nurses?! My lady please, dispense with this pontificating fraud!” the sister finished as she turned to Viara. The plague doctors’ mouth was agape as she too turned to face the marquess. Viara smirked impishly at them both, not at all hiding her amusement.

“Mother Superior please, her tonic worked to stabilize him, and I’d like to see if we can avoid draining Musar of his very life when a simple injection may be all he needs. We must all trust and learn in these new ways that are proving far more effective. I believe the good doctors’ regiment is what is best for him” the gilded words Viara began with chipped and the hard steel beneath them shown.

“I hope it is not vulgar in me to suggest that you overcome your bias and surmount your own ignorance. You were made chirurgeon by the grace of the Marquis and I mean for you to remain in the seat of that vocation. You will please work with and learn from our esteemed guests as I seek to gain knowledge with you dear Mother. Will you not help me? I know not the people yet and need you.” Viara was well versed in the vagaries of language and tone, sour then sweet seems to be her gambit in getting what she wants. Her rank was substantial and though her uncle wronged these people in some unknown ways, they still knelt to the gentry.

Dismas resented Viara a tiny bit and almost felt for the sisters as someone also in a position with little to no say in any current matter. What could the sisters do now? Challenge a marquess with proper and lawful claim to this entire town and its occupants? She had inherited all the control and fear her uncle had over them and Dismas was part of that fear by association. He felt the same tiny sadness now as he did with the panicky old man.

“Of course, my lady” the sister spoke through gritted teeth and silently seceded. She turned with a huff and stormed toward the sanitariums’ large oaken doors, leaving them wide open to mean the doctors could follow.

“Please accept my sincerest of apologies. The sisters here are set in their ways so I’m afraid colorful tonics and leeches are far too exotic for their delicate sensibilities. I can assure you that you have her cooperation. I can be quite…determined” Viara spoke only staring at the plague doctor. Dismas sighed, recognizing a familiar predatory hunger in her eyes. It was indeed too early for this.

“Please tend to Musars wounds immediately and afterward we can discuss…the economy of your medicine.” Viara said, the words silken and her wink playful.

“By your grace, my lady” the three men bowed slightly and before they glided away in their robes to the sanitarium, the plague doctor handed them a substantially sized syringe and a jar of what Dismas assumed was leeches. She remained outside for the moment.

Now facing them, Dismas was surprised to see that framed by her thick onyx hair, her large doe shaped eyes were colored a vibrant lapis. Her mouth was dainty and plump, her somewhat masculine brow crowned her face statuesque. Her eyes like oceans narrowed at them confused and Viara the aristocrat swooped in.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced” Viara began.

“No, we have not, Marquess.” Dismas interrupted, emphasizing her title. Viara laughed and smiled a toothy smile, squeezing his hand tightly. He titled his head and grinned though the entire gesture lukewarm and obviously put on.

“Yes, I am indeed the Marquess Beauffant, heiress to the étoile jumelle estate” she said allowing her laugh to taper off by the end of her self-introduction. Dismas had no interest in where she ranked amongst the court and was far more concerned with how much Viara has been omitting along with their comrades’ current state of health. He was certain she’d argue that she never technically lied to him and she would technically be right. Viara stepped closer to the doctor and took her hand gingerly into her own.

“And you are?” her question a breathless whisper. The small framed woman shook Viaras hand rigorously, oblivious to her smoldering gaze.

“Hello! I am Doctor Perimede Augeas! Well mostly doctor…almost doctor. I am a surgeon and scientist. Well more so alchemist…biochemist, both. I try not to split hairs when it comes to titles,” she seemed to be discussing the matter more to herself.

“I suppose a doctor has more living patients than dead ones. Though experiments still work on deceased bodies, given of course their freshness. I mean flesh is flesh whether the brains synapses can initiate motor function or cognizance am I right” Perimede held her belly, her laugh booming loudly, snorting once or twice as she finished. Dismas turned to Viara, confused that she herself was also laughing. He couldn’t follow the scene before him.

“The human body is just squishy carbon matter held together by just as squishy skin.” she added casually giving her own cheek an aggressive tug, distorting her jovial smirk. Dismas and Viara both simply smiled, utterly bewildered.

“Well Doctor Augeas I’d like to thank you for coming, a physician as brilliant as yourself must be terribly busy.” Viara still held the womans’ hand in hers, the later still oblivious.

“I’m happy to help! I’m also quite excited to have living breathing patients to experiment on.” Dismas squinted at her hoping he hadn’t heard the word experiment.

“Ah yes, and you have my sincerest thanks for helping Musar,” Viara said as her other hand now cradled the doctors one.

“Speaking of Musar- “Dismas began unnoticed.

“Pray, where did you study to have become such an exceptional doctor of medicine?” Viara continued as if Dismas didn’t stand directly next to her.

“Uh…a university?” Perimede stated as if reciting a line whispered to her. Another thing for Dismas to catalogue for later.

“Ah, of course I’m sure of great prestige to have nurtured such natural skill and talent” Viara cooed at her. Perimede looked confused now, not sure how to respond whilst Viara gazed steadily through her.

“No need to be humble, especially when I’m sure the patriarchy that unjustly rules the scholastics and sciences turned their nose up at such an…exemplary female mind,” she said letting Perimedes’ hands go and taking a step back to obviously take her in from head to toe. Dismas sighed.

“Hey Peri, ya wanna give us a moment?” he asked abruptly as he pulled Viara by her elbow closer to him. She turned to face him, and he could see the ridiculous drunk grin she wore.

“As amusing as it is to see you’ve taken a bizarre page from Musars book, can you explain what’s happened to him please” he asked more concerned than he thought he’d be about the bounty hunter.

“Ah yes, of course” she said slightly turning toward Perimede as if to include her though Viaras tone was less flirtatious.

“I went to check up on him this morning and found him laying there, barely conscious with a fever. His wound looked as if something had opened it further” Viara began. Perimede stepped closer to them and Dismas figured the doctor should probably hear about this if she hadn’t already.

“At some point in the night the wound became extremely painful he told me, so he applied a salve he uses for smaller injuries when on the road. The doctors believe it’s the only thing that slowed…what was the word?” she turned to Perimede

“Sepsis” Perimede answered flatly.

“Mmm yes sepsis, thank you.” Viara gave her a smile as if she’d won a prize.

“Sepsis?” Dismas simply asked.

“His blood has been poisoned. Given when he was wounded, I’m surprised he hasn’t gone it septic shock and died” Perimede stated casually as if over tea. Dismas sighed as if bored though still shocked by the diagnosis.

“Doctor Perimede believes that the trap that injured him was coated in some…bacteria?” Viara asked referring again to the doctor.

“A venom. A proteolytic venom…I think. Could be a cytotoxic venom. Anyway! His blood is clotting where it shouldn’t, but his wound also won’t close which is most likely causing a coagulation cascade in his blood not to mention possible thrombosis in superficial veins.” Viara seemed entranced and Dismas grew considerably more confused by it all. Perimede didn’t stop.

“It quite fascinating that within him the blood clots irregularly but the exterior laceration wont clot at all leaving him bleeding! Multiple secretions coated whatever trap he sprung. Toxins with such effects are commonly found in snakes and spiders and other various venomous creatures. The medicinal properties when harvesting these venoms is absolutely remarkable, you can treat various ailments with proper doses of some augmented venom or another. Sometimes even just the venom, though that’s a more ethically ambiguous trial and error process,” she giggled and snorted, pausing for a breath.

“Just like the syringe I gave my colleague is filled with a type of antivenom…not just venom…” Perimede spoke the last sentence to herself and trailed off, looking into the distance. She pulled another syringe from within her robes and studied it carefully for a moment before her eyes went wide. Dismas and Viara shared confused and alarmed glances.

“Please excuse me!” Perimede squeaked though it bordered on a shriek. She bowed mechanically and ran into the sanitarium.

Dismas and Viara turned to each other though obviously feeling different things. He was lost entirely on the subject of the good doctor Perimede Augeas and concerned about Viaras’ focus. She read Dismas’ face and raised her hands gracefully to her chest in surrender.

“I know, I know…I will explain, come.” She tried to soothe him, but he felt patronized.

“Thank you, MARQUESS.”

“Hey, I didn’t think I needed to elaborate on that!” she protested as she led him back toward the tavern.

He was surprised to see Viaras’ room was quite plain. He wasn’t sure what he expected from an inn room above a practical den of sin, marquess or not. She had sleek black leather cases of all sizes in neat piles about the room. An imposing closet, Dismas had no idea how was brought through the doorways, he assumed encased the aristocrats’ wardrobe. Her desk was strewn with various documents and stationery along with a number of bottles of spirits on several flat surfaces. He almost missed the small open weapons case of daggers and other strange things he couldn’t recognize.

“Please sit” Viara motioned to the bed, littered with extra pillows and a heavy fur blanket. Dismas sat at the foot of the bed as Viara turned her desk chair around to sit facing him. She opened her mouth to speak but paused having remembered something.

Viara pulled a small metallic case from her boot and as she opened it Dismas smelled an all too familiar scent. It was the scent of rich soil and chocolate, all shadowed by some delicate citrus. She brought one of the three thinly rolled cigarettes from the case to her mouth, smiling wide at him. She reached behind her for a lit candle on the desk and ignited its tip. Viara fed the glowing ember with a deep inhale and held it in her lungs for a moment. Dismas was pleasantly surprised and welcomed the ease it would bring amongst this incoming onslaught of twisted revelations. She coughed slightly as she handed it to him and aong with his own deep exhale of the burning herb, the room filled exponentially with a delicate smoke that hovered in strips and veils.

“Much better no?” Viara almost whispered. Dismas simply nodded at her as it gently wafted over him.

“Suckle on that,” Viara said winking and handing it back to at him. He gladly took care to slowly enjoy such a consoling indulgence. She sat back and pulled the intricate pin from her tightly bound updo, letting her golden hair fall gently around her face. Viara took a deep breath.

“The letter my uncle sent me was vague, he sounded crazed and fearful. Spoke of digging beneath the manor for some ‘fabulous and unnamable power’ as he so described it. He studied the arcane and all sorts of esotericism, gathering relics and artifacts, all being used to delve deeper into the earth below the manor. Besides rousing some great evil we need more knowledge on, he polluted the land around us with his malfeasance and abuse.” Viara stopped and motioned to Dismas for a pass, he of course obliged. She took a long drag, savoring it.

The Dismas of a few days ago would hear the word arcane and only remember times he robbed folk after charming them to come close, claiming he could read their palm. Dismas’ present self, however, wouldn’t know how to discuss the matter having seen the bizarre and unnatural things in the ruins the prior evening. What else could explain such a creature other than some occult malignancy ripped from the void and made flesh? What beings existed that could pull at the ether and bend it to their will? His fear of these things was joined by the unexpected memory of Reynaulds’ scroll. The paper almost flame itself singed and stunned their enemy in a dazzling light, as if written upon it was the zealous accusation of a god. Was that not arcane? Magic? Dismas opted for compliance in this matter and figured if the arcane works with both hands, light and dark, then it was a weapon they themselves can wield. He tucked it all away and focused as Viara continued.

“The only other information that I have so far is the journal we most luckily found in the ruins.” The two paused, staring at one another for a moment, both remembering the ruins and the fear therein. They didn’t say, but both could still hear that unholy howl.

“It doesn’t speak on anything about the ruins though” she said, answering the question so evident on Dismas’ face. He was torn between glad to not have to discuss it and terrified that they have no explanation for what went on. Viara snuffed out the cigarette after Dismas’ silent decline of it. They were sufficiently inebriated enough to carry on with Viaras testimony of her uncles’ incongruous shenanigans.

“The entries we obtained tell how he compiled a great many rare and elusive tomes on herbs and alchemy, studying them in depth. I can’t imagine why but some woman kept calling upon him at the manor and soon he discovered she had an aptitude for horticulture and other arcane practices. He invited her to stay and they…studied. My uncle was known to be quite licentious, so I’m surprised it was so professional a relationship. Unfortunately, she taught him things and together they planted, cultivated and brewed all manner of creations. According to his accounts she soon began to use her own herbs and concoctions for self-experimentation, becoming wild and grotesque. So…he banished her to the weald.”

Viara stood up and filled two silver goblets with water from an ornate jug on her bedside table. They drank silently for a moment, glad for the refreshing chill of the liquid amongst the smoke they enveloped themselves in. She sat back down and gazed into the depths of her goblet and Dismas could see her mind churning, searching for the right words to carry on.

“Some time after she’d gone, the townsfolk told me a disease crept through the wood and claimed a few of them. It didn’t just kill the people though; it grew inside them. The mind only died, the body became malformed and mostly fungus and mildew, various shrooms grew all over from within. The sentient mold took over and made them beasts, frantic and mindless. Most ran off back to the weald, but the poor townsfolk didn’t know better and the few they killed here infected more, spreading via spores. So many of the sanitarium staff breathed it in.” Viara leaned back in her chair. Dismas was indeed glad for the sedation prior to the acquisition of this knowledge. Still, it seemed difficult for her to continue and Dismas couldn’t blame her.

“My uncles’ solution was to burn anything with any residual fungus on it. He had thugs play police and rounded up the doctors and few nurses that governed the sanitarium who were infected and brought them to the manor. They were never seen again but the bastard came out of his makeshift quarantine with some vaccine. He managed to keep the weald from growing over and blanketing the hamlet.”

“And the issue at hand now?” Dismas asked.

“Apparently my uncles estranged shamaness still infests the weald and now it’s twisted, and unnatural roots are spreading, and this hag is to blame. The people say she roused the literal forest with brews and ritual to create more monstrosities out of caught bandits and travelers. The townsfolk have seen and killed spiders the size of dogs coming from the woods. This bitch is also part of the trading route problem. She moves the very trees with her magics.”

“She alters the road?” Dismas pepped up.

“Yup. I think she’s hired some bandits too, either that or she started to encroach on their turf and now…they’re just stuck.”

He wasn’t sure how to react or how to be properly concerned. She sounded ridiculous. Men and women becoming plant monsters and infecting others? After the ruins he wouldn’t dream of ruling anything out as impossible and understood that you could never be totally prepared for the unknown. This he learned in a way he would never have imagined down in the ruins of the ancient estate. The information Viara had on the weald he didn’t fully comprehend, he couldn’t. How could one believe such things without proof, even with accounts of an entire town. That was precisely what terrified him, the proof he knew he would absolutely discover.

“I take it we’re to stop this hag and her mushroom monsters?”

“Yes,” Viara laughed her response and soon they cackled in unison.

“There it is, we’re just goin in. Maybe she’ll cook something up for us with some of these extraordinary herbs of hers.” He was genuinely calm but still aware that there now be unknown hazards to this new task. Viaras’ laughter faded to giggles and they both sat in a heavy silence.

“This why you summoned the doctors?” Dismas was suddenly curious.

“No actually. They should have been here three days ago. When my letters went out, I didn’t have any idea what was going on in the weald, I hadn’t found those journals. It’s not just lucky they came when they did but that adorable woman, I believe knows a great deal more than just a doctors’ knowledge.” Viara noticeably smiled at her recollection of Perimede and Dismas noticeably rolled his eyes. She laughed and kicked at his chair and in this moment, he was glad at how casual an approach she has to most things, including potential death by toadstool.

“This means were going to need some help” Dismas stated with genuine concern.

“Indeed! I’ve already cast a few nets, posted very particular bounties in some more unscrupulous places, called on old connections to make new connections, you know, crime” she said smirking at him.

“And Reynauld?” Dismas asked as immediately as the thought entered his mind. With obvious exaggerated mock in her mannerism, she rolled her eyes and threw her head back dramatically. They laughed when Dismas’ kick missed her chair.

“He knows where and what we have to do but doesn’t care about the details of my uncles’ sins, just how to absolve them.”

A sudden knock at the door.

“Viara? May I come in?” the deep, disembodied voice asked, muffled by the door.

“Ah, speak of the devil” Viara said, giving Dismas a knowing glance. His mind went blank, horrified that the voice beyond the door was most certainly Reynauld.

“Come in” she sang it more than said it.

The door opened and a tall muscular man stepped into the room. Dismas was flabbergasted to behold the beautiful green-eyed stranger from the baths. Reynauld wasn’t covered in sweat and soot this time but he rendered Dismas just as speechless as before. His soft brown hair and black beard were tidy, his tunic clean and crisp. In this state, his emerald eyes were all the more stunning. He was taken back by how wide and muscular he was out of his armor, as if his plates and fittings were too small. Dismas hadn’t the slightest idea as to how to feel now that these dots connected, aside from lightheaded. Seeing his face for the first time made everything that he had experienced with Reynauld replay all over in an instant.

Dismas rose quickly as if to say, ‘It’s you!?’ but instead just stood there, silent, looking like a surprised idiot. Viaras’ social etiquette reflex kicked in and she also stood up but confused. She looked from between them as the pause filled the room in a miasma of tension. Reynauld was as surprised as Dismas looked, he wasn’t standing behind metal and was completely exposed. He felt foolish for being so shocked, thinking how obvious it is that at some point he would be in Dismas’ presence without his armor. The obvious however didn’t soothe his nerves because Dismas would see now, see where his eyes go and where they linger, see how his lips part when he watches him. He was almost angry that he didn’t prepare himself for this. Reynauld went suddenly cold thinking, would he only be able to look at him like that from behind a visor? He didn’t want to believe that Dismas was why such a thought would birth such dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long! the world crushed me lol.
> 
> i did not make up that medial jargon 
> 
> and don't worry, i'm not gonna glaze over this meeting at the end ;}


	7. Before the prune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at these good eggs makin nice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude” Reynauld said far less shocked than he was. Dismas was the only and the last person he wanted to see so soon after such a sleepless night. In an exercise of futility, he chanted many verses well into the evening but could not free himself from the grip of his craving. All he could think of was Dismas, the image of him lit up by the moon in his bed, lit up by the candlelight of the ruins, him at peace in slumber and terrified in the darkness. The singular thought of going to his room was a suffocating haze that filled every space in the abbey he tried to find respite in as he restlessly roamed the halls. Even now, he wanted to move toward him, simply to be nearer. Reynauld, against every beat in his chest, kept his eyes on Viara.

“Not at all, come in.” Viara glided back into her chair reading the room. Dismas was still standing, staring at Reynauld as Reynauld stared at Viara. The marquess chose to play sleuth, feigning a debutants naivety.

“My goodness Dismas, you’ve turned into a pillar of salt. Surely you recognize the hamlets resident crusader” she said reclining, crossing her arms and legs.

“Unless of course…you’ve only just now met…face to literal face?” she asked Dismas, curving one eyebrow as wickedly as her smirk.

“NO” Dismas said louder than he meant to. “No...it is not the first time.”

“Oh?” she said pausing, knowing that the pressure of silence and stares keeps one talking.

“We came across each other in the baths” Dismas said with far more assurance than he had.

“Ah…the baths.” she said, both eyebrows now arched, threatening to disappear into her hairline. Dismas took a breath through his nose knowing she would not relent.

“He was there for the baths” Dismas stated, thinking again he sufficiently defended this hill he was about to die on.

“HE was and you were…?” she asked, looking between them. Dismas sucked his teeth as silently as he could.

“Leaving” Dismas answered sternly turning to Viara.

“Oh, that reminds me, I believe you have my shirt” Reynauld had finally chimed in and Dismas wished he hadn’t, seeing Viaras’ pupils dilate.

“His shirt?” Viara asked tilting her head slightly.

“I only took it on accident when he handed me my clothes.”

“Your clothes?” she tilted her head to the other side.

“Just my coat, I was fully dressed” he huffed walking to the nearby window, imagining leaping from it the only appropriate resolution to the conversation. Dismas glanced at Reynauld and swore he heard himself blush, the way ones’ ears hum during a yawn. He remained silent, refusing to give Viara another inch to stretch into a mile.

“I’m sorry Reynauld, you needed something?” Viara asked, sated. Reynauld stepped forward and right into the flow of this new dialogue, thanking the Light.

“Yes, the doctors have finished with Musar and other than observation they said he’ll just need rest.”

“Wonderful” she said smiling wide at the news.

“I’m glad he’ll make it” Dismas said, sincerely glad the man wasn’t going to die. He had his gaze still focused on the world beyond the room, missing the glance from Reynauld that Viara hadn’t. She smirked at the momentary look that Reynauld thought he didn’t let linger.

“Yes well, that aside the issue now is lodging” Reynauld straightened his posture, standing at full attention.

“What state are the barracks in?” Viara asked the knight.

“Musar claimed the only intact cot amongst the rubble there and currently we haven’t the means to restore the barracks into a suitable living space.”

“Not with that crazed woman in the weald wreaking havoc on the roads” Viara complained, bringing a finger to her lips in contemplation.

“She’s halted most of the hamlets construction since supplies are only trickling through, leaving the only available and most suitable place for the doctors being the sanitarium. Another point regarding the road is there’s no way of knowing if any other recruits have tried to get to us. Given that one of us lay wounded already, this does not bode well for our numbers. If our arrival has stirred this hag then it seems she means to cut us off from anything that seeks to come here. I believe she needs be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

“I’m not sure whether to be irritated or impressed by your initiative Reynauld” Viara said smiling as Dismas laughed out the window.

“With all due respect, Marquess, you asked me to help you organize certain tasks.” Reynauld would have straightened up even more so if he could. Viara smirked and sighed, she indeed offered him a commander type position to help manage reconstruction efforts so she couldn’t be mad for getting what she asked for.

“Too true my dear Reynauld, too true. You have my thanks. We can discuss the weald this evening but first I must show our guests to the sanitarium properly and mend some fences while I’m at it” Viara said about to stand up.

“I’m not sure that specific task should be handled by you” Reynauld spoke with a cool certainty. Indignation flashed across Viaras face for an instant as she gnawed on his words.

“Yea sounded like a rough morning for the sisters. Perimede seems like she needs help communicating with living people AND you did defend the doctors” Dismas added as he moved from the window to sit back down. Viara smiled at the doctors’ mention.

“Musar was dying, I couldn’t uphold the time-consuming formalities of social etiquette for the sake of the sisters and their sensibilities, he needed immediate attention. I believe, with appropriate pleasantries and grace, I can help recreate their initial meeting and give birth to a fresh first impression” Viara said with the drama of an artist describing their next masterpiece.

“I’m pretty sure that fresh first impression ships sailed” Dismas almost whispered to boost the sarcasm.

“Thank you Dismas” Viara said flatly at him as he shrugged and crossed his arms at her. She huffed, reached for the candle, and inhaled deeply from the cigarettes reignited herb.

“I cannot help but understand the abbess’ position” Reynauld was trying to sound as impartial as possible, leaning away from the plume of smoke that billowed slowly from Viaras’ puckered lips.

“Oh, Reynauld please, don’t side with her on this” Viara pleaded as she slouched forward, passing the burning herb to Dismas. He stared at Reynauld has he took a deep drag, wondering how the pious man would react but he kept his eyes on Viara.

“You know I’m not on her side. The doctors’ methods are superior, that’s just fact. Her intransigence stems from her belief that this knowledge is some unholy and abominable craft from some evil place.”

“Well, my uncle wasn’t exactly gentle when presenting ‘new ways’ to the people” Viara sighed again.

“I mean, they’ve never left this place, anything strange or new from the outside world is enough to frighten them. Their lives have been about survival for so long…I’d fight to keep any semblance of peace I found in this place too” Dismas said with an empathy that pervaded the space, his face more melancholy and his eyes farther away than he knew. He wholly embraced the smokey tranquility of mind that this indulgence provided.

He himself was a strange outside thing and the apprehension it bore into the townsfolk made him sadder than anything else. Dismas took a deep breath not knowing how to carry such an unfamiliar weight. His hazy mind decided to let it sink away to the depths of his psyche, not wanting this current state of peace to be interrupted by anything. He couldn’t escape however, the virgin desire to do some good before he dies, especially since his current line of work isn’t prone to bestowing an excess of longevity. The two others stared at him in his distant contemplation, Viara pouting with wide glassy eyes as Reynauld stood transfixed. Dismas inhaled deeply from the burning plant and paper, holding it out to the marquess unaware of the effect his words had on them.

“Perhaps a more unpretentious and eloquent gentility is needed here” Reynauld offered lightly, coming to.

“I honestly couldn’t care less about how this woman feels” she looked at Reynauld blankly. Dismas laughed into his hand while Viara tried to contain her own gaiety behind tightly pursed lips. Reynauld remained statuesque before them, unmoved.

“Decisions must be made” the towering knight said more so to the room than Viara.

“Ok. You do it. Who better to prepare the sanitarium for our guests than a knight with holy purpose? Surely that would soothe her nerves since I refuse to argue with some nun, let alone give her a choice in case she’s offended. Why not bring the prior along, he can bless the rooms” Viara smiled wide at Reynauld.

“I’m certain my presence wouldn’t make a difference. She probably believes me some corrupted soul simply by association” Reynauld said motioning to the two seated before him. Viara scoffed a laugh, her mouth agape.

“Ok, hurtful” Dismas chuckled heartily, only half surprised at Reynaulds words.

“As much as I appreciate the candor, I’m not sure what you mean Reynauld” her mouth less open than before but her face still amusedly stunned.

“I mean that she’s seen our sort before. Along with whatever cruelty your uncle personally perpetrated upon these people, she’d assume me some fraud with a cross on his chest, another thug with a sword.”

“Maybe that magic scroll of yours you could help her see you’re not just some goon. Not to mention showing her that the higher power she believes in is actually real” Dismas heard himself and worried he was far more barbed than he intended.

“Actually real?” Reynauld asked, choosing to ignore ‘magic scroll’.

“Come on, don’t catch me out. How often can you witness your faith performing some miraculous feat? Things like that scroll and other mystical whatnots, are fueled with will and intent. You filled up that room in the ruins with light after searing a monsters’ flesh, all with a roll of parchment.”

Dismas never thought much about the metaphysical until the evening prior when he felt for the first time the unseen vibrational force of an individual’s purpose manifested in this physical plane. He remembered feeling the sheer will power that drove Reynaulds’ attack of scorching light and the occultists’ incantations that moved shadows like waves of water and teared open the very fabric of reality and space. Even the bleeding madman and his frenzied primal desperation gave him power that he pitted against their minds, trying to tear at their souls. Dismas couldn’t imagine what type of traumatizing horrors would be enough to ravage and break the already delicate mental faculties of man. Would one’s inherent virtues be emboldened or would the darkness within consume you?

“That scroll is not some magic trick to impress or repulse the sisters of the sanitarium, it can only be used against the evil and unholy” Reynauld lied. He didn’t know he was going to use the scroll that night because he wasn’t sure how to use it to begin with.

All he knew was that he felt no malevolence from this item he was gifted long ago on mount Cadmus. The first and only time he was able to use this blank and blessed parchment was to protect Dismas. Reynauld called out to the Flame for strength many times throughout all his travels and had never felt inspired to even consider the scroll let alone execute a feat of some holy thaumaturgy through it. Reynauld felt almost violated at being examined with such precision but mostly felt aroused at Dismas’ testimony of subtle admiration. Reynauld averted his eyes from Dismas mouth and neck, blinking the images away from the forefront of his minds’ eye, suppressing the familiar and forbidden heat that began to course through him. He struggled desperately to ignore that Dismas was the enkindling for his burst of supernatural vigor in the ruins.

“Yes yes, that’s all well and good, use any scroll you like, just alert the sanitarium that I’m forcing new residents upon them. I have the doctors to confer with.” Viara spoke to her reflection in the small vanity mirror on her desk, while she meticulously put her hair back up into a delicate bun, secured with a far simpler hair pin than the last.

“You mean doctor” Dismas said emphasizing the words singular tense.

“Pick one” she said cheerily, unfastening one more button of her plain yet elegant shirt, her eyes never leaving the mirror while she fussed over herself. Reynauld audibly sighed and Dismas couldn’t help but smile at him. Viara broke the momentary eye contact between them as she walked past to the door.

“If you’ll excuse me there’s business to be made and guests to entertain” she said motioning an arm toward the exit, signaling them to leave. All three exited and Viara locked the door behind her.

“Don’t forget to give Reynauld back his shirt, your rooms right over there” she said pointing in the direction of Dismas’ room the entire time she sauntered away. Dismas narrowed his eyes at the back of her head as she glided down the stairs to the tavern, leaving them frozen on the gallery; eyes never sure where to stay.

“Sorry bout the shirt, didn’t know it was yours. I’ll be right back with it.” Dismas walked away toward his room before Reynauld could respond. He moved so swift that the crusader barely heard the lock, the key, or the door make a sound. Being impressed by such a surreptitious skill was ridiculous to Reynauld given Dismas’ history as a wanted criminal but like most of what plagues him these last three days, it was entirely Dismas fault.

“Here you go” said the stealthy thief that had come back just as soon as he left. Reynauld took the still filthy but neatly folded shirt from his outstretched hand, the distance between them awkward. Dismas was determined to preserve his current state of serenity and remained hasty in his actions, he was too inebriated to attempt any type of conversation especially with this man and his gorgeous face.

“Well I’m off to find something to eat. Or maybe just off” Dismas genuinely cackled at himself. Reynauld stood unamused as his gaze was fixed downward at the shirt in his hand. Before the silence bore into either of them Dismas cleared his throat and made his way to the tavern below. Reynauld stood on the gallery with only himself, regretting his mention of the shirt, realizing that this small imagined link to Dismas was now severed.

Dismas ate an early dinner in a solitary corner of the tavern, a perfectly obscured post to observe the patrons and their infrequent comings and goings, but also because it meant Reynauld didn’t see him on his way out. After he’d requested a meal, he tried and failed to strike a conversation with the barkeep Bastien, his name being all Dismas could drag out of him, since he was plainly bothered by any and all social interaction. He knew he wasn’t making much progress with the bar maiden either, thanking her maybe louder than necessary for anything she did for him but Dismas was far too hungry to care. After an unknown length of time Dismas reclined in his seat, his belly pleasantly full and warm.

His reverie fell gently away as his marquess keeper waltzed into the tavern, the curious doctor Perimede in tow. The latter of the two women appears pleasantly confused in the space and looks just as misplaced as she seems. After a brief scan of the area Viara spied Dismas at his tucked away table and made her way toward him, guiding the doctor to move on ahead of her.

“Hello flower” Viara smiled wide as she arrived at his table.

“Love” Dismas said his hello softly, sated and still dazed.

“You remember doctor Perimede” she said motioning to the doctor and swiftly beckoning her to the nearest seat she had pulled out.

“Sure do, hello Perimede” he smiled at the fair woman now across from him. Suddenly in a jab like motion she thrust her hand at him from across the table.

“Nice to officially meet you Dismas” Perimede smiled her eyes shut at him. Dismas stifled laughter though a chuckle escaped as the doctor vigorously shook his hand. Viara sat beside her, observing the contact like a proud mother, Perimede appearing pleased with herself and the interaction.

“Bastien” Viara said just loud enough over her shoulder.

“M’lady?” the brusque barkeep responded from the nearest point of the bar.

“Two ales and a wine. MY wine, not his” she said turning her full attention back to the table.

“And how are things at the sanitarium?” Dismas asked looking between the two women. Viara paused in her response as their drinks were gently placed among them.

“I’m sure it’s going swimmingly” she said lifting her wine to Perimede who in turn lifted her pint of ale and pushed harder than normal at Viaras glass. The marquess was swift enough to move with the exuberant cheers from the doctor, not spilling a drop of wine. Viara and Dismas shared an amused glace as they gently rapped their cups together in the more customarily gentle fashion.

“How was your rude dinner you ate without inviting anyone else?” Viara asked obviously amused and Dismas laughed, the two still silly.

“It was delicious” he defended, only half lying. It was decent relative to how he usually eats, and he could tell that some of the ingredients were of higher quality and imagined that was Viaras influence slowly taking hold in the hamlet.

“Is it rude to eat alone? I quite like sitting alone with a meal here and there” Perimede chimed after another hefty swing from her glass.

“Thank you Perimede” Dismas said reclining again, his face smug. Viara narrowed her eyes at him briefly before turning to Perimede.

“Would you join me for supper my dear?” Viara asked the slender doctor with smoldering eyes.

“Of course! Dismas would you like to eat again but with us?” she asked smiling wide, Viaras gaze lost on her.

“I would LOVE to” Dismas said at Viara than to Perimede. Viara glowered at him.

“Perhaps we should ask Reynauld before he has a rude dinner alone as well?” she said to Viara who gobbled up the ammo Perimede just fed her. She turned slowly to Dismas.

“That’s right! Reynauld should absolutely join us for supper” she said, a fiendish satyr like grin cracking across her face.

“I’m sure he’s finished with the sanitarium by now and in need of sustenance” Perimede added spritely.

“Dismas why don’t you go and fetch Reynauld and we can all have a lovely meal together” said the marquess. “That way we can discuss tomorrows excursion since we’ll be leaving quite early” she injected quickly, seeing Dismas about to rebut.

The two women smiled at him from across the table, each with infinitely different meanings. He knew he wouldn’t win on this especially if the pretense of the gathering was meant for official business. The idea of seeking out Reynauld and discussing their next venture out into the bizarre and unnaturally twisted mad world the hamlet appears to exist in, both horrified him. He stood up to leave and be done with his task as soon as humanly possible, feeling himself sobering up. Dismas took a long final swig from his glass and upon looking up from it, his eyes lock onto Reynaulds towering figure entering the tavern. Reynauld found him immediately and Dismas realized he was once again standing like an idiot for no apparent reason in this mans’ presence. Glad that he didn’t have to go in search of him alone, Dismas was less stunned by his appearance and played into the scene quickly.

“Found him” Dismas said pointing at Reynauld and sitting down immediately. Viara smiled and waved at the crusader, turning to grimace at a grinning and relieved highwayman. Reynauld greeted Bastien with a handshake and by name as he made his way to the three of them. His presence and the space he took up in the room stirred Dismas, it was prominent and powerful. It took only a few strides for him to reach their isolated place at the back of the tavern.

“Good evening everyone” the crusader spoke softly in the quiet hum of the tavern, looming over the table. The sky could be seen blushing dusk from the windows behind Reynauld and Dismas noticed he’s had no idea the time of day. Times’ constructs behave more like suggestions rather than laws here and that unsettled his mind and spirit.

“Good evening Reynauld, please sit” Viara said motioning to the seat next to Dismas, who stared vacantly at her, tight lipped as Reynauld sat down and said a small hello at him as he did. Dismas nodded in kind, busing his face with his drink, both to hide and become inebriated again as soon as possible.

“Bastien one- “Viara tried to say at the bar.

“Cider” Reynauld finished for her. She smiled and winked at him, appreciating his edge.

“Glad you could join us.” 

“I enjoy good company with a good meal.” Dismas hadn’t heard anything like that from Reynauld before let alone such a thing to be accompanied by an exquisitely dashing smile and he couldn’t stand it. Even Viara stalled, momentarily charmed by the unfamiliar glamour.

“Hear hear” Perimede quietly exclaimed. Her proclamation and the arrival of Reynaulds cider shifted the moment and Dismas exhaled. Viara adjusted her hair and cleared her throat, clutching the slender maids’ elbow and ordering another round for the table.

“And how are the new residents of the Sanitarium?” she asked nonchalantly. Reynauld took a swig before answering and Dismas hated the tiny fluff of foam that got stuck in his mustache.

“Settled relatively easily I must say. One of your number doctor Perimede, shared a tome of medical theories written by a saint that I believe they all found remarkable. They were engrossed in conversation so me and the prior simply left since the rooms were divvied. The dormitory is slight, your room is the last down its hall” Reynauld told the doctor.

“Thank you Reynauld and yes, he is the more eccentric of our small group, studies the abstract properties of elements and science” Perimede giggled and snorted at the mention of her peer. Dismas and Viara exchanged a smiling glance hearing Perimede accuse someone of being more eccentric than she.

“Well that’s all music to my ears. I knew you’d be successful” Viara said holding her glass up to no one in particular and emptying it in one gulp.

“No, you didn’t” Reynauld chuckled at her and Dismas laughed into his cup, spilling just a tiny bit of ale, the four of them sharing a laugh that pleasantly lingered around them.

Dismas noticed a shift in Viaras visage as she emptied her second glass and knew she had chosen her moment, the jovial mood and the soon to be present meal a suitable buffer to soothe the aftermath of the inevitable and unpleasant subject matter.

“Now my dear friends, we have affairs that need attention.” Viara spoke velvety, leaning in toward the center of the table, each of them mimicking her just enough to avoid being a blatant huddle.

“Entering and exorcising the weald is obviously the only way to approach this other than just setting fire to the lot of it. So “Viara began.

“Wait, did you genuinely consider just burning the whole forest down?” Dismas asked.

“Well obviously its far less effort than exploring it but it’s not the most practical solution” Viara defended.

“I guess that’s one way to put it” Dismas said more amused than anything else.

“Oh no, to lose all those specimens” Perimede turned to say it to Viara, her face imploring her.

“We are not burning down the weald” Reynauld laid the topic to rest.

“Certainly not” Viara cooed at Perimede, placing her hand over the doctors for a moment before slowly sliding it off, not breaking eye contact.

“Great! I must learn more about this genus of fungi” Perimede said, slapping Viaras hand twice and pulling a small jar of powdery mushrooms from amongst the folds of her dark robes. She placed it near the center of the table and Viara immediately swiped it away and out of sight in her own lap.

“My dear, no visual aid needed, not here” Viara smiled wide at the doctor as she passed it back to her from beneath the table. “But please, tell them what you’ve told me” she said gently at a smiling Perimede as if she’d never been asked to keep talking.

“Yes, well you see there was another member of my group, Pascal. We had stopped on the road for only a moment before he was set upon by some crawling mass of fungi” as Perimede went on, her face softened from its tight smile to quiet reflection.

“It clutched at the hem of his robes and pulled with more strength than something that size ought to have. It suddenly shook violently, and dust and spores spit up from cracks and crevices amongst its entire body” Perimede paused and took a swig of her ale, her face turning whiter before their eyes.

“He was…he was in a cloud of it and the thing somehow pulled him to his knees and took his mask off. It just took it off, I couldn’t see how. Then it shook again, and he breathed it in. He was covered inside and out and could only choke. We…we heard nothing of his voice…of his character and then he began to seize.” Perimede emptied her drink and Viara clasped her shoulder. Dismas felt Reynauld lean in closer but dared not move himself, unsure he’d be able to resist leaning into the larger man.

“He tried to fight the spasms and with his very hands tore at the creature clutching to him, easily ripping toadstools and shrooms from its mass. But it overtook him. All the while the cloud of spores and mold remained a, mist around them, so we kept our distance even masked. I have several types of chemical compounds weaponized and used a more defensive approach given how entangled they were. I tried to disorient them both with a gas, but it only caused them to shake more violently, falling over and wrestling on the ground. I doused them with an acid from a small explosive and it worked at stopping the grappling…but.” Perimede trailed off and took a deep breath as the three in her audience held theirs.

“The small crawling creature had scurried off into the trees, but Pascal remained, his seizure growing increasingly more vicious. His skin had begun to bubble and burst with puss, veins that were not his own slithered and coursed through him. When his bloated body went still his sternum cracked and his chest cavity broke open. Then a bloom of various fungi slowly spread his body open to make way for their exponential growth. At some point they just stopped and fell over limp and wilted. I cut off and jarred a few specimens for study of course” she finished her sorry tale with a snort, tapping what sounded like several other small jars tied to her waist.

“…and?” Dismas asked nearly exasperated at the doctors’ halt.

“Oh, then we left” Peimede said, casually sipping her ale. Dismas leaned back in his chair, exhaling his lungs flat, watching Reynauld drag his large hand down his face from forehead to chin.

“Have you been able to discern what they may be?” Reynauld asked the once again jovial doctor.

“I can only guess that its indeed fungal and has a drive to replicate itself. Spores are almost always used to propagate a species. Also, that poisons and acids most likely won’t have much of an effect of them.”

“Great story Peri” Dismas facetiously praised Perimede, chugging the rest of his drink. He had hoped she’d have had some other information instead of only confirming that some vile perversion of nature awaits them in the weald and has already killed one of them. He was glad however, that the monstrosity may not be a total shock to the eyes now with this fresh account.

“You know I rather like that, Peri. You can all call me that” Perimede said cheerily and rosy cheeked, the birth of her nickname apparently the focal point in all this.

“Thank you for the insight my dear. Now since we’re all abreast…we leave in the morning” Viara tried to sound as pleasant as possible.

“And the plan of action?” Reynauld asked the obvious question.

“I don’t believe we’d find much by way of loot in these woods, so I want to go in there to find out what’s actually happening and kill anything in our way. We need to liberate the roads if we want to continue anything.” Her words were final whether she meant them to be or not, there was simply nothing more to consider.

“We should leave just before sunrise. The sun may flood the lower forest before it rises and becomes blocked out by the wealds dense canopy” Reynauld suggested as their first steps.

“I agree” Viara said, Dismas and Perimede nodding in accord with the plan.

“I’ll arrange for appropriate supplies to be ready before departure” Reynauld said with the distinct discipline of a soldier.

Dismas woke to Bastiens deep husky voice calling out to him after several strong knocks at his door. He responded to the man but heard him already down the hall outside Viaras room, apologizing to the marquess for his intrusion, though his intrusion was no doubt at her behest. Dismas dressed immediately lest any pause risk him falling back into the warm comfort of his bed. The prior evening was uneventful and consisted mostly of Perimede describing her time at university, dissecting a dead professor, leaving said university, stealing corpses for the sake of scientific experimentation and burning down a laboratory she’d broken into to steal from.

He and Viara emerged from their rooms simultaneously, puffy faced and nodding their hellos to one another, it was too early for words. Once outside their yawns were stifled by shivers, the air gripped in the icy fist of the dying night, clinging to the sky as the horizon began to devour it white. Perimede and Reynauld were already outside the tavern and Dismas noticed the crusader holding his helmet to his side and noticeably straightened up at their approach.

“Good morning” he said to Dismas first.

“Morning” Dismas replied timidly, hoping he just sounded tired. The thief stared at the crusader.

In this time of light and no light, the strange moment before dawn when all the world is caught in some zone of night and day fused, his eyes were alien. The color shifted from the seductive ethereal blue reflection of the morphing heavens above to the emerald glare of his natural eyes, flashing turquoise and even more alive in this peculiar light. The breathing glow and color change of them shone like some predators’ evolutionary trait meant to dizzy and dazzle its prey. Dismas couldn’t help but stare, wanting to remain fixed in this sphere between day and night so long as Reynaulds incandescent gaze would hold him there.

“Off we go!” Perimede clapped Dismas on the shoulder hard. “Time to cultivate knowledge and specimens from eerily self-aware fungi!” she finished, poking the crusaders metal belly. Reynauld fastened his helmet and Dismas pulled up his scarf, turning to observe the silhouetted woods beyond the edge of the hamlet. No detail could be discerned from this distance but that only added to the bloating fear in him, the shadowed weald now resembling a horrifyingly monstrous being having fallen across the land and they would soon be traversing its back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A crusader Reynauld died at the battle of mount Cadmus in the second crusade*  
> Not sure if its canon but most refer to that other super famous crusader Reynauld as our babies namesake.  
> I wanted some obscurity ;)
> 
> fighting next!!


	8. Weird Kindling

The first and foremost thing that one would be behooved to acknowledge when simply nearing upon the shadow of the weald, is its’ odor. The second and if not graver side effect the weald inflicts is the taste of it. As it singes past the nasal cavity it falls heavily on the back of ones’ tongue, putrid and acidic. Dismas grimaced and almost gagged underneath his scarf, having always been sensitive to the deception of taste that smell imposes. He turned to see Viara, her face twisted into a scowl that mimicked his own beneath the scarlet fabric that provided little defense against this foul wreaking stench. 

“What is it?” Perimede inquired, looking between the two faces contorted with disgust.

“You don’t smell that?” Viara asked Perimede, jealous that she either didn’t smell it or it simply didn’t bother her. Perimede grabbed her mask by its beak and lifted it delicately to only expose her face from chin to nose.

“Oh dear” she chuckled after taking in a deep breath and setting her mask properly back on her face.

“So that mask completely blocks out this stench?” Dismas asked, also envious of how unaffected she is.

“Not entirely but it’s stuffed with mint, rue and lavender” Perimede explained as if it were common knowledge.

“Oh my god that’s why you smell so good” Viara breathed aloud what most certainly would have been a silent thought for anyone else. Dismas laughed louder than appropriate given their location, which Reynauld made clear as he sucked his teeth audibly through his metal visor. 

“Prepare yourselves” the crusader whispered as he drew a torch and ignited its hessian tip. His theory of the hours of sunrise being able to illuminate their path were proven false in the here and now as the sky above was so heavily overcast that one may think that this dawn was dusk.

Light could barely be seen through any part of the wood, its depth an unfathomable and living darkness, a sentient thing that threatened to inhabit every corner of the visible land before them. Dismas stared into the limitless expanse of trees and exotically alien flora and felt a sick and strange beckoning from this gigantic living mass. Each vine, leaf and root an extension of some singular consciousness, each thing craving the same thing, at the same time, all tied to the one source. The weald outnumbered them in every conceivable way and Dismas already began to combat the fear this entire forest bore within him, terrified that they’ve been beaten before they even began. 

Their first steps amongst the trees unsettled them, their footfalls barely making a sound muffled against mosses and soft, living or rotting plant species. Gnarled and twisted roots were sewn about the forest floor, barbed and bloated. Dismas didn’t stare too long at any one thing, each appearing to swell as if breathing with lungs, writhing with an unknown flowing lifeblood or some invasive arcane force that bent these once living things to its will. The atmosphere was infected with an odd latent malignancy.

Dismas remained by Reynauld as to guide the knight with his raptor keen eyes, scouting for a potential path or trail to follow which became surprisingly easier the deeper they delved. Perimede followed at the rear with Viara, attempting to sketch some mapping of the weald for future campaigns. 

At first Dismas felt the observation of a more visible lane would be welcomed, easing his fear of being completely lost but, the way began to appear not entirely wild and even recently used. Slowly they each noticed strange tracks on the widening road, considerable in breadth. The length between said tracks added another layer of trepidant curiosity; what manner of cargo needs be carried by a thing with such irregularly large dimensions? Reynauld paused, holding the torch slightly higher and toward the tree line, the distance created between the flame and floor intentional. He crouched, his focus on something in the middle of the road the rest could not see.

“Gun powder” he whispered, gently raking several fingers through the barely visible black combustible dust. Reynauld rose and began to scan the distance before them, trying to find any other evidence to formulate an idea of what lurks along this lost path so recently traversed. 

“Could just be from a pistol maybe?” Dismas suggested.

“There’s some more along the track, but I see no footsteps or hoof prints” Reynauld said stepping slightly ahead following the path. 

Dismas aimed his gaze at the ground and though the torch light was not completely near him, the shadow it created helped in the confirmation of his earlier fears. He observed what he believed to be a footprint in the soft dirt that was disappearing before his very eyes. He was transfixed as the small recognizable shape slowly inflated until smooth and nonexistent. Merely inches away he then watched slightly horrified as a small animal skull of some kind began to sink slowly beneath the mossy dirt, also completely vanishing. He rose and decided to remain silent on the matter, not wanting the confusion and fear that grew in him infecting the others. 

“Oh, this is quite strange everyone, I believe I’ve found a tombstone.” Perimede had taken several steps away from the party and stood pointing at the ground amongst the trees. Viara, the closest to the doctor, gingerly bounded to her position. 

“Yup, I know a grave when I see one” the grave digging marquess fondly mused.

The fallen over tombstone was a thick grey marble cross, cracked and forgotten, half eaten by the deceivingly fertile ground. Reynauld joined them with the torch, further revealing the humble burial mound and after a slight pause between them, he stepped through the party and handed Perimede the torch. Reynauld knelt at the tombstone and raised his visor.

“Flame, grant to them eternal rest, let light perpetual shine upon them and illuminate their way to everlasting divine solace, held forever by the Light.” Reynauld remained in his position for a moment, his companions silent, touched by the gesture and guilty they themselves did not think to honor the dead that have been desecrated by the corrupted woodland. 

Viara motioned to Perimede for the torch and walked a few paces further from the group.

“By the Light” she whispered into the challenging darkness. The torch now shone upon a small row of alike gravestones, neglected and half swallowed. They had no idea what to make of this new addition to the already bizarre terrain.

“Has this place not always been here?” Reynauld asked Viara. 

“The forest or the graves?” Dismas only half facetiously questioned.

“I haven’t the slightest idea. I have maps of the general area that I’ve studied but nothing ever suggested a cemetery was here, nor have any of the townsfolk ever mentioned it.” She answered, her face concentrated on the memory of said maps.

“I suppose this place could be much older than many may remember” Perimede offered to the brainstorming.

“I don’t mean to sound callous, but I don’t think this should be our main concern” Dismas said, growing more tense by the minute. The longer they stood still, the more he could see everything around them almost twist in slow, purposeful movements. He tried to remain calm, blaming the fogginess and shadows of this place for playing tricks on him, making him see the bark of trees shift as if uncomfortable and mushrooms leaning toward him. Dismas was caught off guard at how quickly he became unsettled 

“I agree. Let’s step out of the trees and follow those tracks” Viara glided over the many thorny roots that snaked along their feet. They each emerged onto the path and carried on, Reynauld once more in possession of the torch, leading them forward. They walked feeling no breeze nor wind and yet the torch sputtered and flared, something in the air attempted to either strangle it or inflame it, which would come as no surprise given how toxic the entire place felt to the senses. 

As the light from the torch dimmed and dimmed, everything slowly began turning grey, blurring Dismas’ vision. The trees appeared wet in the dying light and he could make out thin streaks of black tar-like fluid pouring slowly from the bark, the semi darkness suddenly highlighting such a feature. Dismas stopped glancing at these bleeding trees, repeating loudly in his mind ‘Its resin and trees do that’, trying to drown out the ambient sounds that began to sound like hisses and whispers coming from the plant life that surrounded them on all sides. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and monitored his breathing with steady inhales and exhales, eyes fixed on the shining metal of the crusader that leads him. There is no warmth in this focus of Reynauld, in this moment he had to concentrate on anything other than the threatening sentience of this place. 

“Are you well?” Perimede asked Dismas quietly though appearing abruptly beside him, causing the man to flinch and recoil. 

“For fucks sake woman are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” the startled highwayman breathed at Perimede, a rasp being the only way to contain his desire to shout. She remained motionless by his side while Reynauld and Viara busied themselves with a rotted tree stump some feet behind her. Dismas hadn’t noticed how they came to this pause nor when a fresh torch that Perimede now held above the two of them was lit.

“You appear slightly flushed and are perspiring” she tilted her head left and right trying to observe Dismas at all angles, her mask adding an avian aspect to her and the mannerisms of her inspection. Perimede thrust the torch at him to hold and removed her glove to check his temperature.

“No signs of fever. Are you anxious perhaps?” she said placing two fingers at his neck, groping for his pulse. Dismas swatted at her prying hands several times, thwarting her gentle persistence.

“Will you- “Dismas began, still swatting.

“Will you please steady that light” Viara called from her position with Reynauld on the ground, uprooting the decaying stump having noticed a large coffer stowed away within it. It was a good amount of gold and precisely cut gemstones they were glad to have shattered the spade for. The two excavators divvied up the haul between two packs to spread the weight and turned to the others who’d paused their delicate grapple and now stood awkwardly close.

“Dismas is swe- “Perimede started to say. 

“Dismas is sweating because this infernal place sucks in more air than we do and blocks out the damn sky while it’s at it” said the frustrated highway-man, rustling his coat off his neck once or twice in a feeble attempt to waft air down his back. The blotting of the already dark grey sky, now that he had mentioned it, sat on Dismas’ chest, each breath giving this encroaching heaviness more space in his lungs to immediately occupy. He felt winded even though their pace since entering the weald was just only slightly faster than sneak.

“Can we keep moving please?” Dismas asked audibly annoyed. He wanted to appear agitated rather than fearful more so to convince himself that the stinking unassuming forest was simply that and not a maleficent semi rotten entity actively trying to smother him. He was forever grateful that they all agreed and his general state of being was not a focal point. His concern now was that Perimede was right, he was anxious and more so than he’d care to admit to. 

They began again on the path that was indeed being taken over by the forest itself, seeing how it had become noticeably smaller after their brief pause. They didn’t comment on it and simply carried on, wading through the encroaching miasmic atmosphere of the weald. 

Dismas focused on his steps, one foot in front of the other, one long breath followed by another. After an unspecified bout of time spent focusing on the steadying monotony of ones’ breath, he jumped to attention having walked right into the back of the crusader. Reynauld turned, the light crash not having shifted him from his position in the slightest.

“Dismas, pay attention” the knight whispered. He was part in part to blame for the collision, having stopped unexpectedly when nearing upon a clearing. Dismas batted his eyes clear and heard himself whisper a small apology to the back of the knights’ head. 

Against his better judgment Dismas looked to the nearest tree and was repulsed. They were overgrown with large fungi and mushrooms that seemed to be slowly flexing, spread out along the length of the tree trunk while smaller ones in tight bunches seeped some dark orange infectious vapor that slithered slowly to the forest floor. He blinked hard feeling his eyes becoming increasingly drier but each time he did so, the colors around him would shift. Some plant life appeared to blacken to a smokey pitch while others became iridescent and glossy. What he truly could not comprehend was the eerie glow of some of them. 

Dismas was both disgusted and bewitched by the lights of these bizarre florae, their unearthly bioluminescence was threatening even in its stillness. The glowing points appeared aimed at him, strange and predatory, evoking in him the primal fear of being hunted and yet he remained transfixed. His breath began to quicken as if it was being pulled out of him slowly like some magicians’ rope of knotted veils. He looked from tree to tree, each one as still as the next, not yet willing to believe they weren’t moving.

He could hear his party discuss something but Dismas couldn’t turn away from the rows of sentinels amongst the dead and dying shrubbery. He swore they were shifting, each tree his eyes revisited appearing closer than before, each tree swelling and writhing. His eyes darted between them, almost bulging from the intense concentration to his focal vision. He’d catch them moving and call out, he’d prove that he wasn’t going mad where he stood. Dismas took a step forward determined to expose his seemingly immobile enemy and immediately froze when a hand gripped his arm like a vice.

“Dismas. DISMAS” Perimede said, her grip intensifying to inflict intentional pain that he didn’t expect from the soft hands that had earlier tried to poke at his throat. Dismas blinked and squinted at the blinding closeness of the torch, another deliberate action from the doctor.

“Don’t pay attention to the glow and don’t get close to the vapor these shrooms are seeping out all over this place. At first, I thought it was just sap, especially given the humidity but it moved like a gas when I went to gather a specimen. Generally, such things one can assume are toxic and maybe lethal especially since the ventilation here is so poor. It might even be flammable. Though I wouldn’t worry too much about any type of contamination or infection…or burns? In general, it would be best to stay away from the trees and their big mushrooms. Don’t want to end up like Pascal now” she snorted and laughed. Dismas was so lightheaded it was a surprise he could follow any of the barrage of information she’d riddled him with.

“How do you know about this place?” Dismas asked, choosing to not yet question how her comrade’s untimely and graphic death was funny. 

“I don’t, not really, just some educated guesses. Smells and colors are especially useful indicators of a things’ chemical composition and once you kind of know what a thing is you can guess how it works and interacts with its environment and other…things. Then of course I was able to observe how this all has been affecting you, which thank you, we collected valuable data here” she said pointing at her temple.

“Observing? So, you were just watching me slip and figured let’s see how it plays out?” Dismas asked incredulously and annoyed.

“You didn’t appear to be in any distress or at risk of and don’t worry, I wasn’t about to let you near those trees never fear. This place isn’t right is it...Fascinating.” Perimede said excitedly, slowly turning to look at everything that surrounded them but Dismas couldn’t focus. This abnormal world that sluggishly swallows up anything foreign isn’t right at all. Dismas scanned their periphery and found no Viara or Reynauld, a fresh surge of anxiety. 

“They went to scout the edges of the clearing just ahead” she explained to him before the question could breach his alarmed expression. Her words didn’t soothe him but rather shifted his energy to the idea of a clearing. His mind was filled with thoughts of the sky, the chilling winds rushing down from elevated altitudes, even hoping for rain from the mornings’ steel colored heavens he could barely see.

“There’s a clearing ahead?” he did nothing to hide the twinge of mania in his voice. Dismas’ lungs tightened, feeling a desperate need to see beyond the wealds dense canopy, to be exposed to the open upper cosmos and breathe properly again. 

“Yes, just there” Perimede pointed with her masks’ beak rather than her hand. Dismas ceased any further interaction and moved toward the indicated point. He rushed to the clearing trying to ignore how the few colors he could discern in the wood’s low visibility, shifted here and there to black and white. Dismas immediately looked up once breaking the perimeter.

The bland dreary sky was none of those things to him. The steely pillowy tufts that blanketed the heavens above him were a consoling mental respite amongst the surrounding rot and his chest expanded with a rush of cool air. Dismas felt grounded and in the present once more, the familiar sky a reminder that he hadn’t been transported to some alien planet on the fringes of the beyond. Dismas could feel gravity properly and felt physically reconnected to the earth beneath his feet, rooting him in this reality. He closed his eyes against a gentle breeze that chilled his wet neck and forehead, the shivers it produced unable to hinder the relief this tiny ephemeral blessing granted. 

Dismas stood facing the heavens for a moment, savoring the icy graze from above until a familiar hooded form crept into his peripheral vision. 

“Peri I swear to god” he said through gritted teeth, staring from the corner of his eye at her slowly approaching hand once more. Perimede straightened from her creeping hunched position, from half behind Dismas.

“Aw, you showed platonic affection using the informal abbreviation of my name. Thank you…D” she emphasized the letter and clapped a hand firmly on Dismas shoulder, pointlessly winking at him from behind her mask. Dismas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Viara swooped in and gracefully replaced Perimedes’ hand with her own on Dismas’ shoulder. 

“Don’t pet the cat dear. SO, the camp is empty and was made so in rather a hurry, I say let’s pack up what we can since these hoodlums could be anywhere right now and we know how best to leave” Viara said winking as she unfurled a map she had found. 

“Agreed. Coming upon this place abandoned is far too serendipitous to not make the most of such a blessing” Reynauld said rejoining the group at the camps edge.

“It’s quite a decent size and I don’t want to know why they left so much behind, so let’s be quick about this shall we?” she sounded almost excited but still unsure. Viara moved swiftly and began to poke around and in the few tents, pilfering anything that could fetch a decent price or be of some use. The others separated, no plan need be discussed, raid the place. Dismas stood in the center of the camp and observed his surroundings in the light the break in the canopy provided along with his refreshed state of mind. 

The camp appeared to be meant for operations rather than lodging in the wilderness. There were piles of supplies strewn about and a larger clearing at the center. A few marquee tents dotted the edge and desks of various crafting sat unorganized here and there. Weapons and empty braziers were oddly scattered about though nothing indicating combat and the braziers were snuffed out with sand and water hastily.

“We must not linger” Reynauld spoke at a cautious volume, still enough for them all to hear him as they spread throughout the encampment. “The ground just under that tent bares the same track marks as we had seen on the road. Its trail leads to the trees but there is no visible path beyond the edge, just this damned vegetation” he crept quietly through the camp.

“I smell gunpowder” Dismas said from the camps apex, following his nose and turning completely around to find Perimede.

“That’s because there are barrels of it here. Looks like somethings been stepping in it too, it’s all over” Perimede told them, motioning to some type of strange and crude smithy like crafting table.

“I guess these must be the cannonballs they shot us off the road with.” Reynauld was still near the tracks he’d discovered with one foot propped up on a large and unrefined metal sphere of almost primitive looking construction. It too was almost entirely sunk into the ground. 

“Great, now they’re making them explosive” Dismas commented, leaning over a work bench where a large metal sphere split in two was semi hollowed out. He looked around and knew it wasn’t much of a stretch to guess that with all the gunpowder kegs and no campfire, it was exactly what the bandits were trying to create. 

“If a cannon is lumbering about, lets hope it makes enough noise so we could hear it coming” he said while stuffing a satchel full of valuables and supplies that Viara had brought to him to help pack away. 

“Are we not still in search of this hag woman then?” Perimede asked whilst collecting fungal chunks strewn about the camp and scraping powders from surfaces into small glass vials. 

“Technically yes, but this absolutely empty camp is too fabulous an opportunity for easy capital” Viara casually answered mid swing of her pickaxe, breaking open a large chest.

“And knowledge” Reynauld added as he too unfurled another map. “We can study these and any logs, come back later far more prepared and now knowing not only a definite way out, but how to navigate whilst within. I also have thoughts concerning our two enemies perhaps being one. If she IS bending the very trees to her will, she may also be doing it for them” the crusader said as he studied the map of the weald he’d discovered. 

“What for?” Dismas asked, dusting off a peculiar residue that seemed to cling whenever he touched or brushed against something. 

“Who knows what one could possibly need from the other” Viara questioned the bizarre affiliation her two foes may have.

“Her motives I’m unsure of but an alliance of some kind with whomever controls these bandits would explain how they’ve been traversing through these shifting trees and paths” Reynauld said as he tucked away the map and pulled his visor down. 

“With a cannon” Perimede chimed in as she carefully tried to pull bark from a nearby tree and stumbled backward when it suddenly tore off. 

“I say if we’ve packed enough to not be over encumbered let’s wrap up this cameo for today and discuss all this back at the estate” Viara suggested. 

“Aye” Reynauld nodded and hoisted the largest of the packs over his shoulder.

The rest started to collect the smaller loads of loot but froze at a sudden rustle from an unknown part of the camps perimeter. They slowly closed ranks toward the center of the basecamp until their backs were to each other, trying to have eyes on all sides of them to see where the sudden noise came from. The waiting in ominous silence created a sense of déjà vu in Dismas. 

“I never want to step foot in another forest with you ever again” Dismas whispered to his left at Viara, each drawing their weapons. Viara scoffed.

The rustling was continuous, and they all started to home in on where it was coming from. The four felt relieved and almost emboldened to discover it was coming from only one direction and hopefully from only one benign source. The sound gradually got closer rather than louder and Reynauld readied his blade. Strategically speaking he was glad the noise approached from in front of him as he was far better equipped to take any incoming blows. What truly relieved him was that when seeing his female party members to his left and right, it meant Dismas was positioned directly behind him. Reynauld decided to be preoccupied with impending battle than to dwell on why Dismas is his first concern.

They each held their breath overwhelmed by an unsettling combination of awe and fear. The indescribable thing that stepped forth from the trees was human in aspect, but they could not fathom what perversion of nature could befall a man to become this. The thing was tall and bipedal, stumbling over the bramble roots and into the camp. They stood frozen watching this half human half fungal hybrid abomination walk slowly to the right of the group and not at all at them. Reynauld cringed as the monster walked past, he was no longer facing it directly. They knew at least it could not see them as no face and more to the point, no head was discernable. From where a clavicle and neck should sit on a torso was the base of a giant mushroom and scattered along the length of it in various degrees of size and number, similar fungi were sprouting. The largest one, acting as a head to the vulgar and bloated human body, flexed slowly. 

The group remained stationary, only turning their heads to follow its sloths’ pace. Its deformed body was bloated at the belly and almost sponge like while its ribcage sank, gaunt and half exposed. The grotesque creature dragged its feet, and they couldn’t understand what sense it could be using to guide itself forward. The party shifted their feet to watch it move passed and it instantly froze. Its own foot jerked in their direction and its shoulders slowly followed suit, the giant mushroom that replaced where a human head should sit was now ‘facing’ them. None knew if it sensed the sound, the movement or both and then more importantly how. Without warning and unsettling agility, it lunged at them, arms groping blindly. 

They leapt away from its clumsy swings effortlessly and managed to separate into pairs on either side of it. Once more, each of them and their enemy stood rooted to the spot. Perimede and Dismas looked passed the monster to Reynauld and Viara, neither sure if making any type of noise may trigger it in some way. Before Reynauld could provoke it Perimede cried out.

“Viara!” she shouted and threw, with alarming speed, a small sphere at a second humanoid fungal monster that appeared from a distance behind Viara. The orb burst on contact at the feet of the creature and it was engulfed in a plume of hissing noxious mist that dissipated quickly but left behind a foamy and viscous acid. It burned the porous skin of the beast and they understood that this mouthless thing somehow feels pain because of the bizarre, muffled noise it emitted as the blight steadily ate away at its flesh. 

What alien guttural tubing exist that could create such a sound? None could imagine it was of this world.

They watched it trip as its legs burned apart and give way to the corrosive bomb Perimede had struck it with. It’s dense sponge like body shook and seized, creating again that profane vibration as if something flapped or huffed from inside it and then a moan like the ringing of fine leather. 

Perimede cried out a second time, her calling to Viara having provoked the foul beast they had originally surrounded, immediately drawing its attention once she had thrown her bomb. Viara and Reynauld turned to see Perimede stumble backward by the swipe. Dismas lunged, digging his blade into the things chest and immediately recoiled clumsily backward, the feel of it not at all akin to delicate human flesh he’s accustomed to knifing. Dismas grimaced at the sensation in his hand and found his enemy far more disgusting than horrifying up close. He drew his pistol and fired directly at large mushroom for a head, and the things reaction appalled them. The sound was reminiscent of a barely audible scream through a pillow and the pain that translated caused each to take a step back, heavily disturbed as it crumbled to its knees. Reynauld and Viara left the other fungi abomination to melt away and joined Dismas.

“Pascal?!” Perimede shouted, having stepped a few feet away with her back to them, addressing some new bestial thing crawling on the ground. 

Dismas could barely make out what it was before Reynauld pushed passed him to tackle a third newly appeared bipedal fungal monster that ran into the camp from the trees. He struggled to load his gun between watching Reynauld and Viara combatting the new stumbling brute and seeing who Perimede called out to. The thing that she started to walk toward was the contorted shape of a man, bent over backward, wrists and ankles broken at unnatural angles like some vulgar miming of a spider. The torso section was cracked open and a large putrid bouquet of alien fungi with one large shroom at its center. What shook Dismas most was that the macabre and gruesome head ornament of this foul crawling horror was an actual head and most certainly Perimedes’ associate Pascals’. 

“Amazing! Have you managed to remain self-aware at all?!” she asked drawing closer to the beast, producing a pad of paper and a small stick of graphite, now even further from Dismas and the rest. 

“Peri!” Dismas shouted, his hands stumbling to reload, trying not to take his eyes from Perimedes’ excited walk towards this bizarre danger. 

Perimede furiously sketched and scribble as the monster began to shudder, the large mushroom on its back vibrating until from its spongy form a small slender fungus shot forth and collided with Perimedes’ shoulder. The rotted projectile popped, wet and dusty on her robes leaving some foul residual stain. 

“Perimede!” Viara and Dismas shouted in unison as the doctor stumbled backward, Viara leaving Reynauld for the beast that is now Pascal. She vaulted forward in leaps and jogs, a graceful predatory feline gait that closed the space between she and her enemy quickly. It leapt to the side avoiding her lunge and they stood before each other, Viara disgusted and horrified now spotting its gruesome features. It began to twitch and shake grotesquely and Viara recognized the tell of an incoming attack. She and the horrendous creeping fungi leapt backward away from one another, Viara in a burst of black smoke and the beast in a putrid cloud of some unknow noxious gas. 

The marquess landed near Perimede and when the smoke dissipated she saw next to the evil thing, yet another fungal abnormality step forward from beyond the camps’ edge.

As Reynauld combatted his own hominid shroom beast, it stopped abruptly, and the large mushroom seated as the things head contracted and inflated several times as if sensing some chemical change to the atmosphere. The newly arrived monster did the same and in unison, from opposite sides of the camp, ran awkwardly toward Perimede. 

Without hesitation Viara ran at the pair of enemies immediately before her, the larger of them racing in her direction. As she raised a dagger to throw, the contorted form of Pascal fired another dart like fungus and struck Viaras thigh. The rancid fungal dart popped, leaving a spot of acid that had burned through her leather trousers and started to eat away at her skin. She faltered mid swing, the dagger missing the lumbering monster that was still running at them. Perimede ducked under Dismas’ gunshot to the creatures’ ankle, giving her enough time to reach Viara who had fallen to one knee. Perimede knelt beside her, uncorked a small glass bottle and immediately sloshed an iridescent green liquid over Viaras wound. The marquess winced sharply and muffled her shout behind gritted teeth. She attempted to wipe the fluid away but Perimede caught Viaras palm in hers and squeezed their interlaced fingers as hard as she was against the painful sizzle of her flesh. 

The rancid fungal humanoid that had escaped from Reynauld reached the focus of its frenzied state and struck Perimede as she helped Viara to her feet, the two women falling over from the blow. Perimede rolled away clutching her struck bicep as Dismas stepped forward to the beast before it could swing at the crouched marquess and sliced across its belly. Puss and ichor spat out from the visceral laceration and Dismas gagged from the virulent stench, leaving him open to a second strike. He raised an elbow at the incoming blow, and it connected clumsily, the vile hybrid monstrosity now exposed to a parrying slice from the agile thief. It buckled from the attacks and Viara finished it off with a heavily arched swing from her pickaxe. Reynauld regrouped and moved to the fungal thing Dismas had shot to its knees and hacked chunks off the upper torso as it fell limp. 

Viara stood unsteadily trying to desensitize herself to the humming sting of her freshly cured wound and moved slowly in on the remaining broken figure of mushroom Pascal with Reynauld. Perimede walked to Dismas’ side, dusting the gunpowder she tumbled into off her robes. He shot at the remaining crawling mushroom creature from afar as cover for Viara and Reynaulds advance but from his pistols hammer strike a slash of spark and flame flashed outward in a jagged path before dissipating in an instant. Dismas recoiled from the pistols surprising outburst but his grip on it remained unrelenting. Viara and Reynauld engaged the revolting creature in battle leaving Perimede and Dismas at the center of the camp.

The moment slowed for Perimede as soon as her mind questioned the strange way the pistol reacted. In a flash of insight time froze and Perimede saw the answer come together before her. The simple chemical reaction she recognized had far graver implications given the circumstances. She tore her mask off and practically dove at Dismas.

“Don’t shoot that!!” Perimede cried out, grabbing at Dismas’ hands in a mad attempt to stop him from shooting his freshly loaded pistol.

“Are you insane?!” Dismas shouted as the doctor almost bowled them both over. He was again shocked and impressed at the strength of her grip. Perimede pulled Dismas close, her eyes sparkled prismatically, every shade of blue streaking behind her pupils like the strips of a planetary storm. He was overwhelmed and almost afraid of how the colors moved on some unknown axis and how he wasn’t sure if she was really looking at him or not. 

“The spores and pollen Dismas, they’re everywhere!” 

“Ok and?! PASCAL is trying to kill Viara and Reynauld!!” he shouted back, struggling against her clenched hands. As they tussled a rush of footsteps broke the perimeter on the pairs opposite side and another sickening fungal abomination appeared as if summoned. Without hesitation Perimede flung a small bomb at the cursed thing and it stumbled about the camp being burned by the acidic explosion.

“I assumed the air here may be toxic to some degree but wouldn’t have thought it was flammable without at least one of you succumbing to death via extended periods of inhalation or the torches spontaneously combusting. Since none of that happened, I counted flammable out. But the spores…” she said bringing her hand to Dismas face and rubbing her fingers together. Her fingers were so close Dismas went cross eyed but still noticed a type of metallic green pigment staining streaks on her gloves. 

“They’re not only carriers of cells and pheromones, which is I’m sure what’s attracting the larger ones, but carriers of anything you see! They’re sticky! They’d easily pick up a dust as fine as gunpowder only amplifying both their flammable chemical properties” Perimede whispered her last few words, her eyes still manic and glowing. 

Dismas was torn away from her by the sound of both Viara and Reynauld shouting. The misshapen crawling mushroom had sprayed the two with a cloud of fumes that each dodged enough to not inhale but part of them, Dismas could see from his distance, became covered in the greenish mustard dust Perimede smeared between her fingers. He looked around noticing streaks and smudges of the same color all over random surfaces in the encampment and to his alarm, all over him. Dismas locked eyes with the doctor and she turned her head away from him in the opposite direction of the commotion. He followed her gaze to the smithing table filthy with gunpowder from several large nearby kegs whose general area was strewn with cannonballs. Dismas understood that they sat on a proverbial and very literal powder keg whilst flammable spores waft about. 

“No fire” Dismas said to Perimede, suddenly very aware of the pouch of gunpowder he keeps strapped to his vest.

“No fire” the doctor parroted back. 

Suddenly they heard a bizarre language becoming more audible and they turned their eyes again to the smithing table. 

A shriveled and stout old woman limped awkwardly toward them; vulgar antlers placed on her head wearing a filthy tattered robe almost tripping her as she haphazardly dangled a crude smoking thurible from some type of sinuous rope. She spoke wildly and her mad face flapped and jiggled while she uttered her profane magics. The censer glowed a sickening orange from within as she cursed into the air and started to swing it out before her. Dismas and Perimede were rooted to the spot from her sudden appearance and the grip her damnable words tried to take on their minds. 

Reynauld rushed to their sides with his helmet already in his hands, his sword nowhere in sight, and flung it with all his might at the incoming crone. Perimede and Dismas watched in horror as the two metal objects set on a direct path to each other, one already filled with something burning. 

The spark created ignited a perfect sphere of opaque green flame that swallowed most of the crone in a lighting quick burst of heat that sucked up all the air in the immediate vicinity. The group was pulled then pushed by the deceptively soft pop of the burst and the screams of the crone began before the bubble of heat disappeared, revealing that it had left half of her ablaze. As her arms flailed, she released her hold on her burning thurible and it hurtled into the closest tree, almost instantly setting the larger mushrooms along its trunk on fire. The fire spread quickly to the canopy that circled the camps perimeter and branches began to fall, aflame to the floor. The crone stumbled away in the other direction, screeching and setting the shrubbery she collapsed in on fire. An entire half of the camps edge was about to be swallowed by foul green and orange flame. 

They stood petrified, the same terror coursing through each of them as they watched burning ground and falling timber creep toward the kegs of gunpowder from either side of it. Viara ripped the bandits map from her belt and opened it with shaking hands, pockets of air exploding sporadically around them.

“Behind us, we can leave on a path behind us!” Viara shouted over the growling flames that began to engulf either side of them. As they turned to sprint to safety, they heard terrible yowls of pain from the crone who had risen, now completely on fire and stumbled toward the smithing table powder kegs.

“RUN!”

Dismas wasn’t sure who shouted, it may have been himself but either way he was a dog let loose and dashed toward the trees behind them, his terrified mind would not allow him to look back. He heard explosions over his heart beating in his ears and felt a heat following him into the trees and onto the path Viara frantically read from the map. As Dismas ran he could see light out of the corner of his eyes as the ignited camp set forth massive explosive chain reactions. The flames felt alive, like some beast clawing at anything before it, anything to feed its flame and propel it further. The fire grew exponentially as the kegs at its source exploded, sending flaming debris everywhere, the fire cascading on itself like waves.

The highwayman was familiar with this feeling, running at top speed for his life, filling his lungs with the air he wildly surged against. For the first time since stepping foot in the weald, he finally felt his lungs properly expand and his fear was stripped to its’ most quantum form; adrenaline. His sprint would be interrupted by nothing, he zigzagged and dashed over gnarly roots and shrubs, ducking under incoming branches. Up ahead as the path opened to a clearer road, another demented fungi monster stumbled about, arms flailing and on fire. The blaze was spreading at a furious rate, gaining on them in a fearsome pincer formation, inching closer from the left and right.

He steeled himself and scanned the foul thing and everything around it. Maintaining top speed Dismas calculated his distance and held his pistol out before him, waiting for perfect pointblank range. Dismas shot close enough for the blast to push his enemy backward and lost no momentum, leaping over its withering form.

“WOOO!! BULLSEYE!!” Dismas heard Viara shout in exhilarated excitation from behind and he was invigorated, his comrades were alive and with him. 

The path they raced down soon led them into a far less dense and corrupted part of the wood until a complete break in the tree line placed them on the old road, the hamlets silhouette just before the horizon. They stood a moment trying to catch their breath but turned to face the forests depths and saw the fire rage although paused quite far from the road, ominously at bay as if choosing not to follow them. Perimede helped steady Viara as her wound burned fresh now that her body was still enough to compute the pain. Dismas sat on the ground and leaned back on his hands, gulping in the chilly air the steel colored sky surged down the road. Reynauld dropped the large pack he’d managed to keep with him while they ran for their lives next to Dismas and followed suit with himself on the other side.

“Actually carried one off?” Dismas asked mockingly impressed. He assumed in the mad dash to escape the flames they all abandoned their loot. Reynauld smirked through deep breaths and pulled the pack open exposing logbooks, maps, scrolls of paper and various letters.

“The necessary swag” Reynauld exhaled, still trying to steady his breathing. 

“Glad we left with only paper” Viara said obviously dissatisfied, the other three turning to glare at her. Perimede poured more liquid from a new bottle onto her wound where she sat to draw her attention. 

“I thought you said we weren’t going to set the weald on fire?” Dismas’ query a whisper for only Reynauld to hear. He surprised himself at how easily he asked the question but given his heightened state the observation didn’t phase him. The adrenaline focused all his thought on how alive he felt in this moment that he didn’t flinch when Reynauld leaned in close, clearing the pack that separated them. 

“Care to trade for your silence?” Reynauld asked, he too emboldened by their brush with death reached stealthily into the pack and pulled out a fistful of gemstones. The sly smirk on Reynaulds face Dismas would remember till the end of time.

“Offers the crusader to the thief” Dismas chuckled as he absolutely took the stones.

“Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke” Reynauld said and the two laughed together. For the first time Dismas was able to look him in the eyes without any fear of persecution, and blatantly admired them. He wondered what this interaction would be like had they been alone, what would he have been capable of? How far would he have allowed himself to push? He’d let none convince him that Reynauld wasn’t thinking the same exact thing. 

“Hey Rey, I thought you said we weren’t going to burn down the weald!” Perimede called out at them, giggling awkwardly. Dismas could see Viaras red face trying to contain laughter from behind the doctor, the true author of the accusation. The two made eye contact and cackled heartily at the sky as Reynauld hung his head between his knees, smoke billowing up from the weald in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. Existential crisis and what not, you know...2020 stuff.

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna be a good burn.
> 
> Im clockin stuff between the late 1600's and like early 1800ish, using all sorts of shit.
> 
> OlwenWhiteTrack is more than half of why this exists. Thanks be to them


End file.
